THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


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in  2010  witli  funding  from 

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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 

# 

THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 

Learning  to  be  a  soldier.  — Page  151. 


TOM  CLIFTON 


oil 


WESTERN    BOYS    IN    GRANT,    AND 
SHERMAN'S    ARMY,    '61-'65 


BY 

WARREN   LEE   GOSS 

Author  of  "  Jed,"  "  Recollections  of  a  Pkivate,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK :  4G  East  14th  Street 

THOMAS    Y.    CROWELL    &    CO. 

IIOSTOX:  100  Purchase  Street. 


CorYinraiT,  1S02, 
Bv  Thomas  Y.  Cuowell  &  Co. 


C.  J.  PETERS  &  SON, 
TYTOGEArilEKS  ANT>  Ei.EOTBOTYl'EES, 

U5  HiGU  Steeet,  Boston. 


DEDICATED   TO    MY   COMRADES 

OF 

.Scticjbirit  Post  Wo,  \, 

DEPARTMENT  OF  CONNECTICUT, 
G.  A.  R. 


602931 


PREFACE. 


This  story  has  reason  for  its  existence  only  as 
it  teaches,  illustrates,  or  emphasises  some  truth  or 
moral. 

The  author  seeks  to  impress  the  youth  of  to- 
day with  the  vital  lessons  of  that  grand  conflict 
which  preserved  the  Union,  —  the  patriotism, 
self-sacrifice,  and  the  heroic  character  of  the 
boys  of  '61  and  '65  by  whom  this  nation  was 
saved. 

The  most  wonderful  feature  of  that  srreat  war 
is,  that  it  was  so  largely  the  work  of  bo3''s;  the 
average  age  of  those  who  fought  its  battles  being 
only  twenty-two  years.  To  teach  the  lesson  of 
their  heroic  lives  by  song  or  story  is  a  sacred 
duty. 

This  book  aims  to  illustrate  by  truthful  pictures 
some  of  the  noble  deeds  that  have  given  to  Ameri- 
cans of  to-day  so  much  of  enduring  good.  To  keep 
alive  the  memory  of   the  boys  who  marched  and 

Yii 


viu  PREFACE. 

suffered  and  battled  for  their  Country,  is  to  help 
preserve  the  greatness  of  the  State,  and  to  inspire 
in  other  boys  the  sentiment  of  noble  citizenship. 
Patriotism  thrives  best  v^^here  it  is  best  nourished, 
and  cannot  be  maintained  where  the  memory  of 
those  who  suffered  or  died  for  the  common  good  is 
neglected. 

That  there  was  no  hatred  or  malice  in  the  hearts 
of  those  who  fought  these  battles,  is  shown  by  the 
scenes  at  Vicksburg  and  Appomattox,  where  the 
victorious  boys  in  blue  shared  their  food  and  drank 
from  the  same  canteen  with  their  former  foes,  — 
foes  no  longer,  but  fellow-countrymen  restored  to 
their  allegiance  under  the  old  flag. 

The  writer  does  not  believe  in  unreal  descrip- 
tions, for  a  book  that  gives  exaggerated  views  of 
any  phase  of  life  is  demoralizing  in  its  tendencies. 
If  it  seems  inconsistent  with  these  views  that  some 
of  the  scenes  of  this  book  are  intensely  dramatic, 
the  reader  must  remember  that  war  is  di'amatic, 
and  an  actual  narration  of  its  incidents  must  neces- 
sarily be  realistic. 

To  his  gallant  comrades  of  the  armies  of  the 
West  tlie  writer  is  indebted  for  many  incidents  and 
personal  reminiscences  of  that  wonderful  organiza- 


PREFACE.  IX 

tion,  "  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,"  that  fought  at 
Shiloh,  conquered  at  Vicksburg,  and  marched  with 
Sherman  "  from  Atlanta  to  the  Sea." 

The  descriptions  of  army  life  in  this  volume 
are  the  results  of  painstaking  studies  made  by  the 
writer;  and  its  scenes  are  mostly  real. 

While  many  of  the  characters  are  fictitious, 
the  author  believes  that  his  comrades  in  arms  who 
may  chance  to  read  these  pages  will  see  in  them  a 
reflection  of  the  faces  they  have  known  in  their 
marches  and  battles. 

The  author  submits  these  pages  with  the  hope 
that  the  reading  of  them  may  inspire  the  youth  of 
to-day  with  the  same  love  for  their  country  that 
animated  the  boys  of  '61  and  '65  in  restoring  to 
the  Union  those  States  without  which  the  Republic 
could  not  exist,  or  slavery  have  been  abolished. 


CONTENTS. 


I  AFTER  PAG  15 

I.  Failure  of  Soap  and  Water  Morality,  1 

II.  The  Rights  of  Man  vs.  Wrong  in  Boys  13 

III.  The  Results  of  a  Dog-Fight.     ...  25 

IV.  Westward  Ho! 37 

V.    Up  the  Mississippi 48 

VI.  The  Outlook  for  our  Neav  Home  .     .  61 

VII.  A  New  Home  in  the  Wilderness    .     .  74 

VII r.    Preparing  the  Farm 86 

IX.    The  Sod  House 99 

X.    Hunting  in  Minnesota Ill 

XI.  Winter  Scenes  on  the  Prairie  .     .     .  122 

XII.    From  Peace  to  AVar 133 

Xni.  Learning  to  be  a  Soldier     ....  146 

XIV.  From    "Camp   Can't   Get    Away"    to 

Shiloh 158 

XV.    Battlefield  of  Shiloh 174 

XVI.    Siege  of  Corinth 192 

XVn.    In  Camp  near  Memphis 207 

XVIII.  Campaigning  against  Vicksburg      .     .  219 

XIX.  The  Great  Adventure  of  Arms      .     .  232 

XX.    Attack  and  Repulse 245 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  The  Tkuce  and  Aruest 269 

XXII.  Siege  and  Surrendek 271 

XXIII.  Scenes  around  Vicksburg 283 

XXIV.  After  Vicksburg  and  Knoxville   .     .  296 
XXV.  On  Veteran  Furlough 310 

XXVI.  The  Atlanta  Campaign 320 

XXVII.  "In  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy"     .     .  333 

XXVIII.  A  Prisoner  Loose  in  Dixie     ....  344 

XXIX.  In  the  Swamps 356 

XXX.  The  Hut  of  the  Fugitive 368 

XXXI.  In  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy  ....  379 

XXXII.  Charleston  Fair-Ground  .....  392 

XXXIII.  Florence  Prison 405 

XXXIV.  From  Darkness  to  Light 416 


I  never  did  see  a  boj'  that  hated  soap  and  water  as  this  boy  does!" 
—  Pase  1. 


TOM    CLIFTON; 

OR,  WESTERN    BOYS    WITH    GRANT 
AND   SHERMAN'S  ARMY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

FAILURE   OF    SOAP   AND   WATER   MORALITY. 

Aunt  Mehitacle  was  getting  me  ready  for 
school.  As  a  part  of  that  getting  ready  she  was 
applying  what  seemed  to  me  a  needless  amount  of 
strong  soap  and  water,  which  got  into  my  moulh 
and  eyes  just  in  proportion  as  I  attempted  "to 
protest. 

"  I  never  did  see  a  boy  that  hated  soap  and  Avater 
as  this  boy  does  I  "  Here  I  attempted  to  wriggle 
from  her ;  when  she  exclaimed,  "  You  are  just  like 
an  eel ;  hold  still !  I  declare,  I  shall  have  to  scald 
and  scrape  you  with  a  clam-shell,  as  they  do  pigs 
in  killin'-time  !  " 

My  father,  who  was  the  village  minister,  was 
reading  the  Congregationalist .  He  looked  up  with 
a  haJ-f  humorous  smile,  saying,  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter ■with  Tom  this  morning,  Aunt  Hitty?" 

1 


2  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Matter  ?  Why,  he  gets  into  all  the  dirt  and 
mischief  there  is  in  the  neighborhood ;  and  he 
hates  to  be  cleaned  wus  than  any  young  one  I  ever 
saw.     See  that  patch  of  tar  on  his  hands  !  " 

The  tar,  as  she  called  it,  was  shoemakers'  wax  I 
had  got  from  Silas  Eaton.  ^' 

"  The  soap  gets  into  my  eyes,  and  the  water  all 
runs  down  my  back  "  —  I  was  going  to  explain 
further,  when  a  dose  of  the  hated  mixture  filled  my 
mouth ;  and  the  rest  of  my  protest  came  in  sounds 
as  if  I  was  bubbling  with  woes  and  protests  that 
could  not  find  articulate  form.  What  reasonable 
boy  ever  lived  that  did  not  hate  soap  and  water 
applied  suddenly,  or  otherwise  ? 

My  father  smiled  in  a  sad,  deprecating  way,  and, 
while  wiping  his  spectacles,  said,  "  I  suppose.  Aunt 
Hitty,  that  all  boys  have  uncivilized  instincts ; 
they  have  to  be  tamed  and  domesticated,  in  part, 
like  wild  animals,  before  they  become  good  mem- 
bers of  society.  J  was  reading  lately  that  missiona- 
ries can  do  but  little  in  Christianizing  savages 
until  they  have  first  caused  them  to  be  washed  and 
dressed.  It  is  an  acknowledged  fact  that  personal 
cleanliness  is  the  best  ally  of  moral  purity ;  it 
seems  to  precede  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  the  alphabet 
of  social  ethics,  and  it  is  constantly  being  demon- 
strated that  little  can  be  done  for  the  improvement 
of  morals,  or  in  reaching  the  soul,  until  something 
is  first  done  to  improve  the  body  in  which  the  soul 
has  its  abode."     My  father,  discovering  that   he 


SOAP  AND    WATER   MORALITY.  3 

had  got, on  his  sermon  tone,  here  dropped  his  voice, 
saying,  "  So  you  see.  Aunt  Hitty,  you  are  a  mis- 
sionary in  your  way." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  said  Aunt 
Hitty;  "but  I  believe  my  soul  and  body  you'd 
preach  if  the  dirt  was  knee-deep  on  this  boy  ! " 
(Aunt  Hitty  always  "believed  her  soul  and  body" 
when  she  desired  to  be  emphatic.)  "  As  for  sav- 
ages, I  believe  Man  Friday  was  twice  as  easy  to 
civilize  as  this  boy.  He  gets  into  the  dirt  as  nat- 
urally as  a  pig  does.  He  and  Garrison "  (Garri- 
son was  a  black  Newfoundland  dog,  and  for 
brevity  I  called  him  Garry)  "  are  the  plague  of 
my  life.  They  both  of  'em  take  to  water  naturally 
enough,  though,  when  there's  no  soap  in  it,  but 
plenty  of  dirt." 

This  seemed  to  start  unpleasant  reminiscences 
in  my  father's  mind,  for  Centerboro  was  only 
about  fifteen  miles  from  the  sea,  of  which  he 
had  a  horror :  for  he  was  not  a  native  of  that  place, 
though  a  resident  preacher  for  many  years.  Aunt 
Hitty  and  my  mother  were  both  natives  of  a  sea- 
port town  near,  and  my  maternal  grandfather  and 
Aunt  Hitty's  husband  had  both  been  lost  at  sea,  — 
my  father  said  drowning  seemed  to  them  a  natural 
death,  —  while  my  brother  Bill  had  run  away  to 
sea  two  years  before  this  narrative  begins.  My 
father  had  never  overcome  his  fear  or  repugnance 
for  the  rough  dangers  of  a  seafaring  life,  by  which, 
as  he  expressed  it,  he  was  "  encompassed  about." 


4  TOM  CLIFTON. 

He  turned  from  my  aunt  with  a  sigh  as  he  said, 
"  I  suppose  it  is  needful  that  men  should  go  down 
to  the  sea  in  ships,  but  it  is  a  very  dangerous  vo- 
cation, though  some  people  seem  to  consider  it  a 
natural  condition." 

"  Yer  father's  as  scart  of  water  as  a  cat ;  and  I 
believe  he'd  rather  see  yer  chop  wood  for  a  livin' 
than  see  ye  the  master  of  a  ship,"  said  Aunt  Hitty 
in  a  contemptuous  undertone,  as  she  smoothed  my 
hair,  tied  a  sailor's  knot  in  my  silk  necktie,  settled 
my  stiffly  starched  collar  (how  that  collar  did  chafe 
my  neck!)  ;  and  then,  with  my  chin  in  her  hand, 
she  looked  down  admiringly  into  ray  soap-burnished 
face,  and,  as  if  half  ashamed  to  show  her  feelings, 
gently  kissed  me,  and  with  a  pleasant  smile  turned 
me  loose. 

That  that  soap  and  water  did  not  reach  very 
deep  into  my  moral  nature  the  incidents  of  the 
morning  proved.  Of  my  father's  four  children, 
I  was  my  aunt's  favorite.  Notwithstanding  the 
scolding  that  accompanied  leach  morning's  scrub- 
bing, she,  with  what  seemed  to  me  singular  incon- 
sistency, expressed  but  little  pleasure  with  those 
who  agreed  with  her  when  she  censured  me. 

Mehitable  Ryder  was  the  widow  of  Captain 
Joshua  Ryder,  who  was  lost  at  sea  on  a  voyage  to 
Calcutta,  while  commanding  a  clipper  ship.  My 
mother  died  before  I  could  remember  her  gentle 
influences,  leaving  two  boys,  myself  and  my  brother 
William,  and  two  girls,  Bess  and  Jane.     My  aunt 


SOAP  AND   WATER  MORALITY.  5 

had  taken  hold  to  "help  bring  up  the  family." 
She  had  great  respect  for  my  father's  goodness, 
but  little  or  no  confidence  in  his  practical  wisdom. 
To  use  her  own  expression,  he  was  "  a  good  man, 
but  no  manager."  He  was  immersed  in  books 
and  theology,  instead  of  the  practical  things  con- 
nected with  what  my  aunt  termed  "  the  bread-and- 
butter  question." 

He  was  in  ill  health,  which  neither  the  climate 
nor  his  sedentary  habits  improved.  He  had 
started  out  in  life  with  some  property,  increased 
by  my  mother's  portion  in  her  father's  estate; 
but  his  liberality  to  poor  parishioners,  and  want 
of  good  management,  had  materially  diminished 
it.  To  use  Aunt  Hitty's  expressive  language, 
we  were  "growing  poorer  and  poorer  every  day 
of  our  lives."  My  father  often  debated  some 
means  for  bettering  his  health  and  fortunes,  but 
none  could  be  agreed  upon  until  the  incidents  I 
shall  narrate  forced  him  to  make  a  change,^0r,  as 
Aunt  Hitty  said,  not  politely,  "  drove  him  out  of 
town." 

On  the  morning  in  which  this  story  opens,  on 
my  way  to  school  I  played  at  bendy  on  the  ice  in 
a  painstaking,  conscientious  manner;  stamped  on 
the  frozen  pools  by  the  roadside  ;  sat  down  in  the 
wet  to  show  the  red  bottoms  of  my  new  boots  to 
Dick  Nickerson  (for  when  the  red  wears  off  the 
glory  of  a  boy's  boots  departs)  ;  and  then,  hur- 
ried by  my  sister  Bess,  started  at  a  full  run  for 


6  TOM  CLIFTON. 

school,  with  Garry  barking  at  my  heels.  I  had 
not  been  very  anxious  to  go  to  school  that  morn- 
ing, and  when  the  exercises  opened  with  the  sing- 
ing of :  — 

"  Our  youthful  hearts  for  learning  burn, 
Away,  away  to  school," 

I  did  not  feel  that  it  applied  to  my  condition  of 
mind. 

Uriah  Johnson,  a  lank  specimen  of  the  Vermont 
schoolmaster,  was  the  presiding  genius  of  the 
winter  term  of  the  district  school.  He  had  prom- 
ised me  a  whipping,  and  I  was  fearful  that  he 
might  keep  his  promise. 

Upon  his  first  assuming  the  duties  of  school- 
master I  had  been  a  favorite  pupil,  and  he  had 
overlooked  some  of  my  most  mischievous  pranks  ; 
but  at  a  spelling-school,  in  an  evil  hour  for  me,  I 
had  by  a  suggestion  made  him  my  enemy,  for 
which  I  can  truthfully  say  I  was  not  to  blame. 
For  a  boy  of  twelve  I  was  a  good  speller,  and  on 
one  or  two  occasions  had  stood  up  "  to  be  spelled 
down "  among  the  best  spellers  of  the  school, 
most  of  them  older  than  myself. 

At  the  spelling-school  in  question  Uriah  John- 
son was  giving  out  words  with  unusual  pomp, 
when  the  members  of  the  school  began  to  go  down 
before  the  simple  word  "  hen-house."  I  was  one 
of  those  who  had  been  spelled  down,  and  the  rest 
of   the  school  were   fast  following.     As  I  sat  in 


SOAP  AND   WATER  MORALITY.  7 

amazement  that  so  simple  a  word  should  go  so  far, 
and  wondering  how  words  could  so  suddenly 
change  in  spelling,  an  explanation  occurred  to  me, 
and  I  raised  my  hand  as  a  signal  that  I  had  some- 
thing to  say,  and  inquired,  "Isn't  it  heinous  in- 
stead of  '  hen-house  '  ?  " 

The  master  turned  beet-red  with  confusion,  and 
the  girls  giggled,  for  the  word  was  heinous.  Since 
that  time  I  had  fallen  in  Johnson's  estimation  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  had  ceased  to  overlook  my 
mechanical  device  of  crooking  pins  for  others  to 
sit  down  on,  cutting  my  initials  on  desks,  and 
mortising  holes  in  my  desk  for  confining  vagrant 
flies,  and  other  such  uses.  So,  as  I  had  a  new 
knife,  I  was  driven  to  other  expedients  in  order 
to  make  use  of  it  during  school-hours. 

My  cousin,  who  was  five  years  my  senior,  and 
who  had  been  to  sea,  had  just  taught  me  that  if  I 
attempted  to  open  the  blade  of  that  knife  with  the 
thumb  nail  of  my  right  hand,  while  the  knife  was 
held  firmly  with  the  blade  upward  in  the  left,  the 
blade  of  the  knife,  by  some  hocus-pocus,  as  he 
termed  it,  would  fly  back  and  cut  across  the  ball 
of  the  thumb  of  the  experimenter,  in  witness 
whereof  I  had  seen  the  mark.  Not  beinon  selfish, 
I  was  burning  with  ardor  to  communicate  my 
newly  acquired  knowledge. 

When  the  master's  attention  was  turned  to  tbe 
first  class  in  arithmetic,  I  whispered  to  my  school- 
mate that  my  knife  could  not  be  opened  in  the 


8  TOM  CLIFTON. 

manner  described.  After  cutting  his  thumb  he 
communicated  with  the  boy  across  the  aisle,  and  he, 
having  tested  the  experiment  and  gained  knowl- 
edge by  the  same  process,  spread  it  along  a  whole 
row  of  seats,  the  occupants  of  which  were  sucking 
their  right  thumbs  and  looking  out  of  the  corners 
of  their  eyes  to  those  who  were  getting  knowledge 
of  the  same  character  in  experimental  philosophy. 

The  scene  was  too  ludicrous  for  me  to  restrain 
my  laughter ;  and  after  several  attempts  to  stifle 
my  appreciation  of  the  scene,  I  finally  snorted  out 
in  such  a  way  as  to  call  the  attention  of  the  whole 
school,  the  master  included,  to  myself.  He  took 
in  the  situation  very  quickly,  and  grasping  me  by 
the  collar  pulled  me  into  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
while  I  was  yet  unable  to  control  my  laughing  fit. 
He  there  applied  a  switch  until  I  "  laughed  out  of 
the  other  corner  of  my  mouth,"  as  he  termed  it. 

I  angrily  protested  by  showing  fight,  for  human 
nature  is  large  in  a  boy,  at  which  Uriah  literally 
"  mopped  the  floor  with  me,"  exclaiming,  "  I'll 
learn  yer  to  snigger,"  and  then  put  me  in  the  closet 
under  his  high  desk  and  turned  the  button. 

This  desk  stood  on  a  platform  ift  the  rear  of  the 
schoolroom  opposite  the  door.  There  I  was  left  to 
reflect  on  my  misdeeds.  I  did  not  find  much  that 
was  amusing  in  this  closet.  There  was  a  long- 
necked  quart  bottle  half  filled  with  ink,  and  in  one 
corner  a  spider's  web.  A  large  knot-hole  in  the 
front  of  the  desk  would  have  given  me  a  full  view 


SOAP  AND   WATER  MORALITY.  9 

of  the  schoolroom  but  for  the  fact  that  its  angle 
of  view  was  partially  downward  instead  of  straight, 
so  that  my  prospect  was  very  limited.  After  a 
little  it  ceased  to  interest  me,  and  then,  curiously 
enough,  my  conscience,  which  up  to  that  time  I 
had  heard  little  from,  began  to  trouble  me. 

I  have  often  since  observed  that  my  conscience 
has  been  most  troublesome  when  isolation  and 
suffering  have  both  given  it  a  pretext  for  making 
me  miserable.  From  this  I  draw  the  inference 
that  solitude  and  suffering  are  both  essentials  in 
producing  repentance.  I  can  remember  at  this 
day  the  pangs  I  suffered  at  thought  of  the  mild 
but  pained  expression  of  my  father's  face,  and 
I  even  felt  a  twinge  of  remorse  that  the  soap 
and  water  morality  of  the  morning  had  been 
wasted. 

This  contrite  mood  was,  however,  driven  away 
by  the  voice  of  the  master.  The  remembrance  that 
I  had  kicked  and  bitten  him  gave  me  a  sort  of 
savage  delight.  A  little  considerate  reasoning  is 
always  more  potent  in  reforming  the  conduct  of 
boys  than  brutal  punishment,  and  even  at  this  day 
I  cannot  believe  that  the  latent  good  that  is  in  any 
boy  can  be  easily  reached  by  violence. 

In  the  midst  of  these  conflicting  reflections  I 
made  a  discovery  which  permanently  diverted  my 
attention  and  conscience.  I  discovered  that  the 
nose  of  the  quart  bottle,  if  inclined  at  an  angle  of 
forty  degrees,  would  go  into  the  knot-hole.     My 


10  TOM  CLIFTON. 

first  thought  was  to  take  out  the  cork  and  pour 
the  ink  upon  tlie  floor  below.  Yet  I  was  not 
seriously  tempted  until  the  master  darkened  the 
knot-hole  with  his  person.  Sitting  with  his  back 
towards  me,  and  perilously  near  my  knot-hole,  he 
called  the  class  in  geography.  The  lesson  that  day, 
if  I  rightly  remember,  was  on  the  rivers  of  New 
England.  In  any  case  it  was  something  about  the 
course  of  rivers,  for  he  began  in  his  grating,  dicta- 
torial tones  a  kind  of  chant  as  follows :  — 

"  Connecticut,  —  Connecticut  rises  in  Connecti- 
cut Lake, 

"  And  flows  south  four  hundred  miles, 

"  Between  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont, 

"  Through  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut, 

"  And  into  Long  Island  Sound." 

My  heart  throbbed  painfully  with  conflicting 
feelings.  Something  said,  "  Think  how  it  will  pain 
your  good  father !  What  will  your  Aunt  Hitty 
say  ?     Don't  do  it,  Tom  !  " 

As  I  heard  Uriah  Johnson's  categorical  tones, 
the  desire  to  astonish  and  punish  him  was  so  great 
that  I  was  no  longer  master  of  my  ^own  actions. 
I  felt  that  I  could  not  help  myself  if  I  died  for  it. 
He  had  just  reached  "  Connecticut,  and  flows  into 
Long  Island  Sound,"  and,  as  fate  would  have  it, 
the  top  of  his  yellow  head  was  just  under  my 
knot-hole.  I  removed  the  cork  from  the  bottle, 
thrust  the  neck  through  the  hole,  and  the  dark 
flood  poured  down  over  his  head,  his  collar,  and 


SOAP  AND   WATER  MORALITY.  11 

coat.  The  master  jumped  up  with  a  terrified  yell, 
not  knowing  what  had  befallen  him,  and  the  girls 
screamed.  My  sister  Bess  fainted  (she  always 
fainted  and  does  to  this  day  on  state  occasions). 
I  had  moved  away  from  the  knot-hole  as  if 
to  escape  the  consequences,  which  were  much 
more  dramatic  than  I  had  anticipated,  and  in  so 
doing  struck  the  door  of  my  prison  and  it  burst 
open. 

For  a  moment  I  did  not  understand  my  deliver- 
ance, but  soon  seeing,  what  my  father  would 
have  termed  a  providential  leading  in  it,  in  the 
confusion  I  got  out  of  the  schoolhouse,  and  lost 
no  time  in  reaching  the  house  of  my  married 
sister,  where  in  times  of  trouble  I  had  often 
before  taken  refuge. 

To  my  sister  Jane  and  her  husband,  Captain 
Jonathan  Atkins,  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  the 
whole  affair,  and  felt  relieved  at  my  confession. 

During  the  recital  the}^  had  both  laughed  until 
the  tears  came  to  their  eyes ;  but  at  its  con- 
clusion, Captain  Jonathan  said,  — 

"Youngster,  you  are  in  a  scrape,  and  you'd 
better  lay  low  till  the  squall  blows  over.  You've 
done  so  much  skylarkin',  that  if  I  was  ready  to 
sail  I'd  advise  yer  to  slip  yer  cable  and  go  a 
voyage  with  me,  for  if  that  schoolmaster  gets 
ahold  of  yer,  he'll  keelhaul  yer,  as  sure  as  yer 
live.  I'm  awful  sorry  for  the  parson.  I  guess, 
Jennie,  I'll  go  over  and  see  him  now,  and  spin 


12  TOM  CLIFTON. 

the  yarn  before  anybody  else  can  get  a  bight  on 
him.  Better  hear  it  from  me  than  some  one  else 
less  impartial." 

I  did  not  understand  the  term  "keelhauling;" 
but  I  did  dread  meeting  my  father,  and  the 
thought  of  it  was  worse  than  any  other  possible 
punishment. 


RIGHTS  OF  MAN   VS.    WRONG  IN  BOYS.      13 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   RIGHTS    OF   MAN    VS.   WRONG   IN    BOYS. 

The  reader  may  infer  from  the  previous  chapter 
that  I  was  what  may  be  termed  a  terror.  A  veri- 
table bad  boy,  —  as  ministers'  sons,  in  spite  of,  and 
I  sometimes  think  because  of,  good  examples  often 
become.  It  may  naturally  be  supposed  that  the 
incidents  I  have  narrated  created  a  commotion.  In 
an  isolated  inland  village  like  Centerboro,  any- 
thing which  concerned  the  minister  or  schoolmaster 
was  duly  talked  over;  and  the  collision  between 
the  minister's  son  and  so  important  a  person  as 
Uriah  Johnson  became  a  matter  of  great  conse- 
quence, and  was  a  subject  of  gossip  in  every  house 
in  the  neighborhood. 

I  had  been  severely  punished  by  my  father  for 
my  misdeeds,  but  the  worst  punishment  to  me  was 
the  sight  of  his  sorrowful  face.  Aunt  Mehitable 
scolded  me  for  my  "capers,"  as  she  called  them, 
but  would  allow  no  one  else  in  her  hearing  to 
censure  me. 

Among  those  of  his  parish  with  whom  my  father 
was  not  in  accord,  was  Deacon  Eli  Weston,  who 
was  also  a  member  of  the  school  committee.  The 
deacon  was   very  impatient   of  contradiction,  yet 


14  TOM  CLIFTON. 

very  fond  of  controversy.  My  father  was  peaceful, 
—  not  fond  of  debate,  but  on  matters  of  principle 
was  what  Silas  Eaton  the  shoemaker  called  "very 
sot." 

The  year  of  which  I  write,  1854,  was  one  of 
great  political  excitement  in  Massachusetts,  a  time 
in  which  the  conscience  of  our  people  was  in  collis- 
ion with  their  financial  interests ;  when  justice 
and  right  were  arrayed  on  one  side,  against  trade 
with  the  South  on  the  other. 

My  father,  God  bless  his  memorj'-,  was  an  anti- 
slavery  man,  while  the  deacon  was  a  pro-slavery 
man,  or  one  who  professed  not  only  to  believe  in 
the  right  of  men  to  hold  slaves,  but  also  in  the 
right  to  catch  them  when  they  ran  away,  and  to 
extend  the  area  of  slavery  wherever  tlie  national 
flag  waved.  Shameful  as  at  this  date  it  may  ap- 
pear, a  vast  number  in  our  Northern  communities 
were  of  the  deacon's  manner  of  thought. 

By  the  passage  of  the  Nebraska  Bill  in  1854  a 
vast  tract  of  territory  lying  between  the  Missouri 
River  and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  larger  in  area 
than  Great  Britain,  France,  and  Spain,  had  been 
thrown  open  to  slaverj^  though  previously  by  the 
Missouri  Compromise  Act  it  had  been  especially 
dedicated  to  freedom.  It  only  remained  to  secure 
Federal  protection  to  slave  property  in  transit  in 
the  free  States,  to  complete  the  pro-slavery  mastery 
of  the  entire  Union.  This  Act  may  be  said  to  have 
been  the  beginning  of  our  great  Civil  War. 


RIGHTS   OF  MAN   VS.    WRONG  IN  BOYS.      15 

Two  daj's  after  the  passage  of  this  Act,  Anthony 
Burns  was  arrested  in  Boston  as  a  fugitive  sLave 
from  Virginia,  and  the  popular  sentiment  and  in- 
terest in  this  subject  were  intense.  Our  little  town 
in  part  reflected  the  sentiment  of  the  metropolis 
but  a  few  miles  distant. 

During  the  excitement,  the  fact  of  the  Court 
House  in  Boston  being  surrounded  with  chains 
to  keep  back  the  multitude  that  surrounded  it 
was  seized  upon  by  Abolition  orators,  and  Wen- 
dell Phillips,  in  a  speech  of  great  dramatic  power, 
used  for  his  topic  "  The  Court  House  in  Chains." 
The  papers  opposed  to  making  Massachusetts  a 
slave  hunting-ground,  abounded  in  similar  head- 
lines. Commissioner  Loring,  a  Massachusetts 
judge,  gave  the  order  for  sending  back  Anthony 
Burns  to  slavery.  This  was  considered  by  many 
to  be  a  disgraceful  act. 

While  yet  this  question  was  a  topic  of  conver- 
sation, father  met  the  deacon  in  the  village  post- 
office  and  grocery.  "  What  do  yer  think  of  these 
Boston  abolitionists,  pa'son,  defyin'  the  law  and 
Constitution,  and  makin'  such  a  row  'bout  sendin' 
back  that  nigger  to  his  master?  " 

My  father  for  an  answer  took  from  his  pocket  a 
Bible  and  read,  "  '  If  a  man  be  found  stealing  any 
of  his  brethren  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  maketh 
merchandise  of  him,  or  selleth  him ;  then  that 
thief  shall  die.' " 

"Ahem,  well,  pa'son,  neow  you  don't  think  that 


16  TOM  CLIFTON. 

applies  to  that  nigger,  neow  say,  do  you,  pa'son  ?  '* 
said  the  deacon. 

"  This  Anthony  Burns,"  replied  my  father 
gravely,  "is  a  member  of  the  Christian  church,  and 
is  your  brother  in  Christ,  and  Christ  has  said,  '  In- 
asmuch as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me,' "  and, 
not  caring  to  enter  into  further  controversy,  he 
walked  out,  leaving  the  deacon  to  consider  the 
question. 

The  next  Sunday  after  this  encounter  my  father 
had  preached  a  sermon  on  the  "  duty  of  the  Chris- 
tian church  in  the  free  States,"  that  caused  a  great 
commotion,  because  he  claimed  that  this  was  not 
politics,  but  practical  Christian  teachings  which  it 
was  his  duty  to  preach. 

Said  my  father,  "  It  enables  the  political  body 
to  which  we  belong,  no  matter  how  wicked  or 
weak,  to  make  any  man  an  outcast,  and  as  having 
no  significance  as  a  man.  Man  is  not  the  creature 
of  the  State;  he  has  rights  that  date  before  all 
charters  and  communities,  eternal  as  the  powers 
and  laws  of  his  being." 

Heedless  as  I  may  appear  to  have  been  at  that 
time,  these  views  made  a  powerful  impression  on 
my  mind,  and  were  the  seeds  which  afterwards 
bore  fruit  in  largely  influencing  my  life,  by  mak- 
ing me  a  soldier  in  the  Civil  War  and  a^  friend  of 
the  slave. 

The  deacon  and  his  party  (for  these  sentiments 


RIGHTS  OF  MAN   VS.    WRONG  IN  BOYS.      17 

produced  a  division  in  the  church)  professed  to 
believe  that  the  minister's  teachings  defied  the 
laws  of  the  land  and  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  I  do  not  here  propose  to  discuss  the  sub- 
ject, except  so  far  as  it  influenced  the  deacon  and 
changed  the  current  of  my  after-life,  and  influenced 
the  events  of  which  this  story  is  a  history. 

My  mischievous  pranks  (which  were  wholly 
wrong),  and  my  father's  high  moral  position  on 
the  slavery  question  (which  was  wholly  right), 
combined  to  produce  a  serious  discord  in  my 
father's  parish,  so  that  he  began  to  feel  that  his 
usefulness  as  a  minister  in  that  town  was  at  an 
end. 

Uriah  Johnson  was  a  political  weathercock  — 
all  things  to  all  men.  When  he  was  with  the 
deacon  he  was  a  pro-slavery  man ;  when  talking 
with  my  father  he  was  a  friend  to  the  slave. 

After  the  events  narrated  in  the  first  chapter, 
the  master  was  very  angry.  He  called  on  the 
deacon,  and,  after  assenting  to  his  most  pronounced 
pro-slavery  views,  interested  the  deacon  in  his 
grievances,  and  requested  him,  as  a  member  of  the 
school  committee,  to  call  on  the  Reverend  William 
Clifton  and  ask  him  to  correct  and  punish  me. 

With  this  in  view,  the  deacon  had  put  on  his 
best  suit  and  his  high  starched  collar,  and  had 
started  to  call  my  father  to  an  account  for  the 
moral  and  legal  heinousness  of  my  offences,  and 
incidentally  to  discuss  the  slavery  question  and  the ' 
tariff. 


18  TOM  CLIFTON. 

It  was  just  about  sundown  when  I  saw  the  deacon 
coming  up  the  driveway  leading  to  the  j)arsonage, 
which  stood  a  little  back  from  the  main  street.  On 
one  side  of  this  driveway  was  a  stone  wall,  on  the 
other  a  fence,  and  it  was  my  evil  destiny  to  have 
a  strong  string  attached  to  the  fence,  about  a  foot 
from  the  ground,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  driveway 
nearest  the  house. 

When  I  saw  the  deacon  coming:  I  was  beliind  the 
wall,  through  a  chink  of  which  I  had  run  the  string. 
This  was  slackened  and  lay  on  the  ground  ready 
to  be  pulled  taut  for  the  entertainment  of  a  certain 
Dick  Nickerson,  whom  I  had  invited  to  call  on  me. 
Dick  was  about  my  age,  and  had  entertained  me  in 
a  similar  manner  a  number  of  times. 

When  I  saw  the  deacon,  with  his  red  face  pro- 
truding over  his  high  collar,  strutting  up  the  road, 
talking  to  himself,  and  beaming  with  anticipation 
of  the  unpleasantness  of  his  mission,  in  a  moment 
of  terrible  temptation  I  forgot  myself  and  all  my 
good  resolutions,  and  pulled  the  string  taut  just  as 
the  deacon  reached  it,  and  sent  him  sprawling  to 
the  ground.  The  string  had  broken  and  been 
quickly  pulled  through  the  chink,  and  I  think 
he  would  have  never  known  the  cause  of  his  down- 
fall had  I  been  able  to  keep  back  an  unfortunate 
snicker  at  his  very  untheological  and  amusing 
exclamations. 

The  deacon  was  a  very  tall,  athletic  man,  and, 
hearing  my  snorts  of  laughter,  looked  over  the  wall, 


Tripping  up  the  deacon.  —  Page  IS. 


RIGHTS  OF  MAN  VS.    WRONG  IN  BOYS.      19 

seized  me,  and  lifted  me  bodily  into  the  driveway, 
and  with  one  hand  hokling  my  coUar,  applied  the 
toe  of  his  thick  cow-hide  winter  boot  to  that  part 
of  the  boy  which  is  most  in  danger  when  he  is 
most  in  mischief,  and  in  this  way  propelled  me  to- 
wards the  house.  My  father,  hearing  ray  screams, 
—  for  the  deacon's  temper  and  muscle  were  both 
well  developed,  —  rushed  to  the  door,  and  saw  the 
deacon  and  me  coming  up. 

"I'll  teach  yer,  yer  young  Satan's  deer-trap,  yer 
catamount  yer,  to  play  pranks  on  and  assault  yer 
betters  !  "  he  yelled. 

My  father  was  shocked,  both  at  the  deacon's  lan- 
guage, and  at  his  taking  it  upon  himself  to  punish 
me  for  my  faults  in  school,  for  that  was  the  under- 
standing he  had  of  the  deacon's  language. 

"  Deacon  Weston,  why  do  you  beat  my  boy,  and 
use  unseemly  language  ?  "  exclaimed  my  father. 

"  The  young  scamp  has  been  assaulting  his 
elders,"  replied  the  deacon  wrathfuUy. 

My  father,  still  thinking  that  his  remarks  applied 
to  my  affair  with  the  school-teacher,  replied,  "  I 
am  well  aware  of  it.  Deacon  Weston,  and  I  assure 
you  he  has  been  severely  punished." 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  the  deacon,  with  a  grin  of 
satisfaction ;  "  he  has  been  punished  moderately 
well,  according  to  my  age  and  strength ;  but  if  I 
had  had  a  good  cow-hide  whip  I'd  try  a  little  more 
correction  on  the  young  scamp."  And  he  wiped 
off  the  blood  from  his  big  nose,  which  he  had  hurt 
in  his  fall.  - 


20  TOM  CLIFTON. 

M}^  father  expostulated  with  the  deacon  again, 
when  he  angrily  retorted,  "  Yer  see,  pa'son,  what 
your  doctrine  of  defiance  of  the  laws  has  led  to ! 
Yer  boy  is  a  sample  of  the  work  ye  are  doing  in 
teaching  our  people  to  disregard  the  law." 

My  father  understood  this  allusion  to  his  sermon 
and  his  anti-slavery  views,  and  warmly  replied,  "  He 
who  attacks  the  strong,  deacon,  shows  a  courage 
which  does  something  to  redeem  his  violence ;  but 
to  tread  on  the  neck  of  the  weak  is  to  add  mean- 
ness to  wrong." 

"  Yer  justify  this  boy  in  his  attacks  on  a  man  of 
character  in  this  community,  then,  do  ye,  pa'son  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  deacon  wrathfully. 

"No,"  replied  father;  "I  spoke  in  general 
terms,  on  general  principles ;  for  where  injustice 
and  oppression  are  potent  God  has  no  empire,  and 
then,  as  some  ancient  sect  taught,  it  is  truly  the 
empire  of  the  principle  of  evil,  —  of  the  power  of 
darkuess." 

"  Well,  pa'son,  I  thrashed  that  boy  on  general 
principles,  and  in  a  general  way,  for  the  general 
mischief  he  has  done,  confound  him ! "  said  the 
deacon,  with  just  a  touch  of  humor  in  his  wrath. 

By  this  time  Deacon  Weston  had  got  into  the 
sitting-room,  where  a  light  revealed  his  wounded 
nose.  My  father's  anger  gave  way  to  pity  when 
he  saw  the  deacon's  wounded  condition,  and  he 
called  out,  "  Mehitable  !  Mehitable  !  Get  a  basin 
of  warm  water  and  some  sticking-plaster :  the  dea- 
con is  wounded." 


RIGHTS   OF  MAN  VS.    WRONG  IN  BOYS.      21 

My  aunt  and  sister  Bess,  who  had  not  heard  fhe 
disturbance,  came ;  and  my  father's  compassionate 
inquiries,  seconded  by  my  aunt's  attempts  to  learn 
the  cause  of  the  injury,  mollified  the  deacon's  wrath 
so  that  he  began  to  understand  that  my  father  had 
not  recognized  the  cause  of  his  outbursts  of  tem- 
per.  The  deacon,  pleased  to  be  the  centre  of  so 
mucli  attention,  explained  my  misconduct  towards 
him.  I  had  meanwhile  escaped,  sore  and  con- 
science-stricken at  the  trouble  my  father  was  likely 
to  have  on  my  account. 

But  for  an  unfortunate  discussion  of  the  slavery 
question  which  ensued,  I  believe  peace  might  have 
been  declared,  notwithstanding  my  aunt  was  very 
angry  when  she  heard  of  the  deacon's  attack  on  my 
person.  I  never  knew  the  cause  ;  but  the  dea- 
con left  the  parsonage  in  but  little  better  humor 
than  he  entered,  yet  he  intimated  his  opinion 
that  my  father's  days  of  usefulness  as  a  minister 
in  that  neighborhood  were  over,  — a  sentiment  with 
which  my  fatlier,  after  mature  deliberation,  agreed. 

He  then  made  his  decision  to  change  his  field  of 
labor  as  soon  as  he  could  make  proper  arrange- 
ments. 

The  day  following  the  deacon's  visit  he  formally 
took  me  from  school,  apologizing  for  my  misdeeds; 
and  on  the  Sunday  following  announced  to  his 
church  his  purpose  to  leave  the  parish  of  which, 
for  twenty-five  years,  he  had  had  charge.  He  did 
not  decide  to  what  place  he  should  remove,  until. 


22  TOM  CLIFTON. 

during  the  next  week,  he  received  the  following 
letter  from  my  Uncle  John,  written  at  St.  Paul, 
Minnesota :  — 

St.  Paul,  1854. 
Dear  Brother, — I  have  often  urged  you  to  come  out 
here  with  your  family  to  live,  and  when  I  received  your  letter 
I  thought  to  answer  it  in  a  day  or  two,  but  two  weeks  have 
elapsed  without  my  getting  to  it.  I  feel  anxious  to  have 
you  come  West,  and  am  convinced  that  you  will  be  better 
satisfied  in  the  end  than  to  remain  where  you  are.  Nothing 
can  be  more  certain  than  that  St.  Paul  in  a  very  few  j^ears 
will  be  a  great  city,  like  St.  Louis  or  some  other  of  our 
Western  cities.  You  may  count  on  three  great  cities  on  the 
Mississippi,  —  New  Orleans,  St.  Louis,  and  St.  Paul.  The 
climate  here  will  be  just  what  you  need ;  and  it  is  morally 
impossible  for  one  to  fail  in  faithfully  venturing  almost  any 
business  or  profession  for  a  livelihood  in  a  place  like  this. 
The  prospect  for  your  children  in  this  great  West  is  cer- 
tainly far  better  than  in  the  East.  If  I  knew  you  would 
come,  I  could  now  secure  a  house  for  you.  I  will  help  you 
in  every  manner  possible,  in  whatever  direction  you  wish 
to  act.  Yours, 

John  Cufton. 

This  letter,  followed  by  other  correspondence 
during  the  succeeding  weeks,  was  the  means  of 
persuading  my  father  and  Aunt  Mehitable  to  re- 
move to  the  great  and  then  comparatively  unknown 
Northwest. 

My  father  preached  his  farewell  sermon  the  fol- 
lowing January,  and  before  another  month  we  were 
well  on  our  way  to  New  York,  preliminary  to  going 
to  Minnesota. 


RIGHTS   OF  MAN   VS.    WRONG  IN  BOYS.      23 

I  should  fail  to  do  justice  to  the  neighborhood 
in  which  we  lived,  if  I  did  not  say  that  on  learning 
my  father's  intentions  the  current  of  public  opin- 
ion which  had  set  against  him  turned  and  ran 
furiously  in  the  opposite  direction.  Even  the  deacon 
came  and  urged  him  still  to  tarry  with  the  church, 
and  intimated  even  to  me  that  he  had  known  very 
unruly  boys  to  make  good  men. 

My  misdeeds  were  forgotten  or  overlooked  by 
all  except  Uriah  Johnson,  who  apparently  thought 
them  too  serious  to  be  overlooked. 

So  when  we  left  town  my  aunt  said,  "  Them  that 
had  jawed  the  worst,  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  their 
mouths ; "  while  my  brother-in-law  declared  we 
were  "leaving  with  flying  colors."  Many  of  my 
father's  parishioners  came  to  labor  witli  him  to  in- 
duce him  to  remain  in  the  service  of  the  church; 
but  he  remained  firm,  declaring  that  both  his  health 
and  waning  fortunes,  as  well  as  differences  with 
his  church  on  moral  questions,  determined  him  to 
persist  in  his  intentions. 

Before  leaving  Centerboro  my  father  received 
from  Uncle  John  the  following  letter  of  directions 
in  regard  to  the  trip. 

St.  Paul,  1855. 
Dear  Brother  William,  — You  asked  in  yonr  last  letter 
what  would  be  the  best  route,  and  if  you  would  be  liable 
to  be  imposed  upon.  I  think,  with  your  characteristics, 
you  are  more  likely  to  impose  upon  yourself  than  to  be  im- 
posed upon.    No  man  who  minds  his  own  business  and  uses 


24  TOM  CLIFTON. 

tlie  precautions  which  all  tvavellers  should  use,  will  be 
troubled  with  imiDositions.  It  is  just  as  pleasant  a  journey 
as  a  man  would  wish  to  take  with  his  family.  As  you  start 
trom  New  York,  you  had  better  take  the  Erie  Railroad  to 
the  Lakes.  When  you  reach  Lake  Erie  you  can  keep  right 
on  by  railroad,  or  take  a  steamer  to  Detroit,  and  then  the 
railroad  to  Chicago,  and  on  to  Galena,  or  a  little  farther,  to 
some  other  point  on  the  Mississippi  River.  When  on  the 
cars  you  can  stop  over  night  at  some  city,  if  you  lind  that  you 
are  getting  tired  out,  and  then  resume  the  trip  the  next  day. 
The  fii'st  night  you  had  better  stop  in  Albany,  and  the  next 
in  Buffalo.  When  you  reach  the  IMississippi  secure  a  good 
stateroom  on  the  boat.  Should  you  find  a  boat  just  leav- 
ing, and  the  staterooms  all  taken,  wait  for  another  boat. 
Go  on  a  regular  mail-steamer,  as  the  passage  will  be  made 
quicker,  and  you  will  probably  have  better  fare.  On  the 
railroad  I  think  you  may  pass  your  children  for  half-fare. 
On  the  steamer,  unless  you  prompt  them  to  do  so,  they  will 
charge  you  nothing  for  children.  You  cannot  come  with 
them  to  the  first  table  in  any  case,  whether  you  pay  for 
them  or  not.  Now,  William,  it  looks  like  a  great  under- 
taking to  you  to  come  to  Minnesota,  but  when  you  get  here 
the  trip  will  have  proved  a  pleasant  excursion.  I  do  not 
think  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  bring  any  freight  except 
trunks,  —  you  can  bring  any  number  of  them  by  paying  a 
little  extra  on  the  cars ;  on  the  steamer  it  does  not  matter 
how  many  you  have.  Bring  all  the  money  you  can  com- 
mand with  you.  If  you  have  an}-  you  do  not  wish  to  use, 
you  can  get  twenty  per  cent  interest  on  it,  and  good  real 
estate  security.     With  love  to  all, 

Affectionately, 

John  Clifton. 


THE  RESULTS  OF  A   DOG-FIGHT.  25 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   RESULTS   OF   A   DOG-FIGHT. 

My  father  was  sad  at  leaving  the  scene  of  so 
many  years'  fruitful  ministry,  and  Aunt  Mehitable 
declared  that  "she  felt  as  if  she  was  being  pulled 
up  by  the  roots."  He,  with  careworn  face  and  so- 
ber looks  and  words,  methodically  made  his  prepa- 
rations for  departure,  and  during  the  following 
months  sold  all  his  household  goods,  except  those 
which  could  be  packed  in  trunks.  The  old  house 
looked  as  desolate  as  though  some  vagrant  cyclone 
had  enviously  denuded  it  of  all  its  homelike,  com- 
fortable features. 

To  me  it  was  a  time  of  excitement  and  anticipa- 
tion. The  young  look  out  on  the  world  and  see, 
through  a  halo  of  hopefulness,  all  that  is  delightful. 
The  unknown  to  them  is  full  of  glowing  possibili- 
ties, and  the  scenes  of  the  world  are  broad  and  al- 
luring. As  we  grow  older,  the  world  seemingl}" 
shrinks  both  in  its  capacity  for  yielding  enjoyment 
and  novelties,  as  well  as  in  its  area.  We  begin 
to  learn,  with  advancing  age,  "  What  shadows  all 
are  we,  and  what  shadows  we  pursue." 

At  that  period  of  my  life  1  saw  but  few  shadows. 


26  TOM  CLIFTON. 

for  the  world,  to  me,  was  aglow  with  light  and  joy- 
ousness.  The  only  shadows  of  those  days  were 
those  cast  upon  me  by  my  father's  saddened  face. 

Finally  our  preparations  were  made.  A  large 
number  of  our  friends  and  neighbors  gathered  at 
the  depot  to  bid  us  good-by.  It  was  a  great  com- 
fort to  my  father  that  at  the  last  moment  his  parish 
people  showed  so  much  sorrow  at  his  departure 
and  solicitude  for  liis  welfare. 

At  last  the  engine-bell  rang,  and  the  shu,  shu,  shu, 
of  the  train  in  motion  showed  me  we  were  leaving 
the  station.  The  fences  and  houses  seemed  to 
glide  backward ;  the  familiar  scenes  melted  away, 
and  new  ones  took  their  place. 

It  was  the  winter  of  1855  when  we  began  our 
journey  to  New  York,  where  my  father  had  en- 
gaged to  do  some  city  missionary  work  until  spring. 

Our  route  was  by  the  way  of  Fall  River,  where 
we  were  to  take  the  boat  for  New  York.  I  had 
never  before  seen  a  steamboat,  and  the  decorations 
of  this  one  seemed  rich  and  luxurious  beyond  my 
most  fervid  dreams  of  the  palace  which  the  genii 
built  at  Aladdin's  command.  The  cushioned  chairs 
I  felt  were  too  fine  to  sit  upon.  When  we  arrived 
in  New  York  City,  the  clamor  and  calls  of  hack- 
men,  the  rattle  of  teams  and  confusion  of  the 
streets,  brought  vividly  to  my  mind  a  sermon  I 
o/ice  heard  my  father  preach,  on  the  confusion 
which  took  place  at  the  Tower  of  Babel,  when  the 
multitudes  could  not  understand  each  other,  and 


THE  RESULTS  OF  A   DOG-FIGHT.  27 

confusion  and  misunderstandings  of  all  kinds 
occurred. 

Aunt  Mehitable  had  friends  in  Brooklyn,  and  by 
their  invitation  she  remained  with  them  for  several 
months,  until  my  father  made  preparations  for  our 
final  departure  to  the  Northwest.  I  accompanied  him 
about  the  city,  which  to  me  was  a  constant  source 
of  wonder  and  amusement,  and  soon  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  hurry  which  so  marked  the  life  of  its 
crowded  thoroughfares. 

I  did  not  think  it  strange  at  the  time,  but  in 
thinking  it  over  as  I  write,  I  can  see  that  there 
must  have  been  something  in  my  father's  face  to 
attract  beggars  and  suffering  people.  Many  times 
he  was  stopped  by  pleas  for  charity ;  and,  as  he  had 
not  become  hai-dened  to  city  beggars,  nor  accus- 
tomed to  consider  every  one  who  approached  him 
as  an  impostor  (as  city  people,  even  clergymen, 
often  do),  he  listened  to  them  as  patiently  as  he 
would  to  a  member  of  his  own  church,  advising,  and 
sometimes  procuring  for  them  food  and  comforts. 

"  After  all,"  said  my  father,  when  Aunt  Hitty 
scolded  him  for  giving  away  his  own  money,  "  they 
belong  to  God's  parish,  and  Holy  Writ  has  said,  —  as 
if  marking  this  feature  of  life  for  our  attention,  — 
'The  poor  ye  have  always  with  you,'  and  it  seems 
to  me  that  these  cases  of  suffering  are  an  appointed 
part  of  life,  that  our  sympathies  may  not  becom^ 
deadened  by  selfishness." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  Aunt  Hitty,  "  but 


28  TOM  CLIFTON. 

who's  goin'  to  help  you  and  3^our  family,  when  you 
haven't  a  cent  in  your  pocket  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  will  provide,"  said  my  father  rever- 
ently, to  which  Aunt  Hitty  replied  by  an  expres- 
sive "  Humph  !  The  Lord  helps  them  that  help 
themselves,  William." 

"  Yes,"  replied  father  with  a  far-away  look  in 
his  eyes;  "in  one  way,  but  there  are  other  helps 
than  earthly  ones." 

One  da}^  father  was  buying  a  newspaper  at  a 
corner  stand,  when  I  got  among  some  newsboys 
who,  after  the  manner  of  their  kind,  began  to  chaff 
and  hustle  me,  and  as  I  started  away,  one  put  out 
his  foot  to  trip  me  up,  and  another  attempted  to 
seize  my  hat. 

Garry,  who  had  accompanied  us,  thinking  this 
not  just  the  thing,  rushed  to  my  defence  with  a 
bark  and  growl,  whereupon  a  bull-dog,  owned  by 
one  of  the  boys,  accepted  the  challenge  on  his  own 
account,  and  a  big  dog-fight  was  soon  in  progress* 

The  country  boy,  as  well  as  the  country  dog, 
was  in  danger  of  being  worsted,  when  my  father 
came  to  the  rescue.  Garrison,  seeing  his  master, 
resumed  his  confidence,  while  my  father  tugged  at 
his  tail,  trying  to  separate  the  contestants,  until 
Garry  was  so  close  under  my  father's  feet  as  nearly 
to  trip  him  up. 

The  fight  was  progressing,  when  a  little  fellow, 
dressed  in  a  threadbare  suit  of  corduroy,  dropped 
a  bundle  of  papers,  and  with  a  confident  tone  and 


THE  RESULTS  OF  A   DOG-FIGHT.  29 

manner  said,  "  Ain't  ye  ashamed  of  yerselves, 
byes  ?  "  and  pushing  right  and  left  vigorously  seized 
the  bull-dog  by  the  collar,  twisting  it  until  the  dog's 
eyes  seemed  starting  from  his  head,  and  holding 
him  firmly,  notwithstanding  his  struggles. 

My  father  turned  to  Garry  and  myself,  saying 
reproachfully,  "  You  see  the  trouble  you've  caused 
me.  What  would  they  say  in  Centerboro  to  know 
that  a  minister  of  the  gospel  had  been  engaged  in 
an  unseemly  dog-fight  ?  Ah  !  I  forgot  that  brave 
little  fellow  that  quelled  the  fight,  and  that  savage 
creature  that  attacked  Garrison." 

My  father  shook  hands  heartily  with  the  little 
Irish  lad,  saying,  "  You  are  a  brave  little  fellow ; 
a  peacemaker.     What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Matt  Ryan,  sur  ;  an'  sure  it's  a  piecemaker  I'd 
a  bin ;  I'd  a  knocked  'em  into  bits  if  they  hadn't 
stopped  at  onct,  sur." 

My  father  thanked  him  heartily,  and  the  little 
fellow's  face  glowed  with  conscious  pride,  through 
all  the  dirt,  at  this  tribute  to  his  courage. 

A  policeman  just  then  put  in  an  appearance, 
with  the  characteristic  intention  of  arresting  all 
the  inoffensive  members  of  the  party.  My  father 
explained  the  cause  of  the  disturbance  ;  but  I  fear 
this  would  have  been  of  little  avail  had  not  his 
friend,  the  merchant  for  whom  he  was  doing-  mis- 
sionary  work,  have  come  up  and  interceded  in  his 
behalf.  We  were  just  turning  away,  when  a  yell 
of  dismay  came  from  Matt% 


30  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"Och  hone  !  Oh  murther!  They've  taken  me 
papers  !  Oh  the  thaves  I  "  and  Matt's  eyes  were 
blazing  with  wrath,  for  his  stock  of  Tribunes.,  and 
Heralds  which  he  had  put  down  by  the  side  of  a 
doorway,  to  enable  him  to  participate  in  my  row, 
had  been  stolen. 

"  Oh,  but  why  didn't  I  keep  me  oie  on  the 
thaves,  when  I  was  a-choking  Jim  McMurphy's 
big  purp,  sur?  " 

"  How  much  did  your  stock  of  papers  cost  ?  " 
said  ni}-  father. 

"  They  cost  me  twinty-five  cints,  sur,  and  it  was 
the  last  cint  I  had,  and  all  me  mither  could  scrape 
togither  this  marnin.  And  it's  meself  that  ought 
to  have  bin  scratching  around  instid  of  dog-fighting 
for  yez,  sur,"  said  Matt,  with  the  suspicion  of  a  tear 
in  his  eye. 

Father  gave  Matt  a  silver  dollar ;  but  Matt 
returned  it,  saying,  "  I'm  not  a  beggar,  sur,  and 
mither  says  I  mustn't  take  money,  but  if  ye  can 
lind  me  twinty-five  cents  for  the  day  I'll  return  it, 
sur." 

"No,"  said  my  father  ;  "you've  lost  your  papers 
as  well  as  your  time,  to  help  Tom,  who  has  a  genius 
for  getting  into  trouble,  and  it's  my  duty  ta  make 
good  your  losses.     So  here  is  fifty  cents." 

"  That's  square,  sur,"  said  Matt,  looking  up  with 
his  pinched,  but  bright  and  confident  face,  now  all 
smiles  again, 

"  But,"  said  my  father,  "  if  you  haven't  got  but 


THE  RESULTS   OF  A    DOG-FIGHT,  31 

that  twenty-five  cents  you  must  be  extremely 
poor." 

"It's  poor  we  are,  sur,"  replied  Matt.  "Me 
mither  can't  work  fur  the  baby,  and  we  can't  find 
me  father." 

As  the  result  of  this  conversation  father  took 
the  address  which  Matt  gave  him,  and  promised  to 
call  and  see  him  and  his  mother. 

On  our  way  to  the  Bible  House,  my  father  was 
very  thoughtful  and  absent,  but  an  exclamation  or 
occasional  word  gave  me  a  clew  to  his  thoughts. 
"  A  child  like  that  to  be  in  the  streets  of  this 
great  city !  God's  little  ones  without  a  home  !  " 
and  then  a  sigh,  as  if  the  misery  and  woe  of  the 
great  city  oppressed  and  anguished  him  like  a 
nightmare. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  we  were  returning  to 
Brooklyn,  my  father  remembered  his  promise  to 
call  on  Matt  and  his  mother.  We  turned  into  a 
dirty  alley-way,  and  inquired  of  the  ragged  chil- 
dren clustering  around  where  Matt  lived.  A  blear- 
eyed,  dirty  woman  said,  "  Give  me  tin  cints  for  a 
pint  of  beer,  and  I'll  tell  you,  sur." 

I  do  not  know  as  we  would  ever  have  found 
Matt,  had  he  not,  during  the  search,  appeared  from 
a  door  near  us.  His  first  exclamation  on  seeing 
us  was,  "  Och  hone !  me  mither  is  sick,  and  the 
baby  is  did,  and  we  have  no  doctor,  and  nothing  to 
eat  at  all,  at  all,  sur."  The  last  part  of  the  sen- 
tence was  broken  by  sobs,    and  emphasized  by  a 


32  TOM  CLIFTON. 

little  wail  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  express 
in  print. 

"  Where  is  it  you  live  ?  "  asked  my  father. 

"  Och,  we  don't  live  at  all,  at  all !  Me  mither 
and  the  baby  that's  did  are  just  staying  down  here 
a  bit ;  and  it's  not  living,  but  dying,  that  they  are," 
said  Matt,  now  actually  howling  with  grief. 

There  was  something  grotesque  as  well  as 
pathetic  in  the  newsboy's  exclamations.  He  led 
us  into  the  cellar-like  basement  room  where  he 
lived.  There  was  no  fire,  and  the  light  entered 
only  through  a  small  window. 

"Is  that  you,  Matt?"  said  a  weak  voice;  and, 
when  our  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom, 
we  saw  the  wasted  form  of  a  young-looking  woman 
lying  on  a  mattress  spread  on  the  floor  in  a  corner. 
A  single  chair,  an  old  stove,  and  a  few  cooking- 
utensils  were  its  only  furniture. 

The  woman's  story,  briefly  told,  was  that  they 
had  been  in  this  country  only  a  few  months.  That 
Matt's  father  had  preceded  them,  and  had  sent 
money  for  them  to  come,  but  that  while  on  the 
steamer  they  had  lost  the  address  and  directions 
he  had  sent  to  them,  and  so  they  had  remained  in 
New  York  until  they  could  receive  new  directions 
from  Ireland.  But  the  parish  priest  who  had 
written  the  letters  to  Ryan  for  them,  had  written 
that  he  was  unable  to  remember  the  address,  only 
that  it  was  in  some  Western  State,  and  that  they 
must  remain  in  New  York  until  he  heard  from 


THE  RESULTS  OF  A   DOG-FIGHT.  33 

Ryan  again,  who  would,  of  course,  write  to  him, 
the  priest,  if  they  did  not  arrive  at  the  expected 
time. 

"An  sure,  sur,  it's  been  a  whole  six  months,  and 
it  seems  as  it  had  been  forever,"  said  Matt's  mother. 

My  father's  face  lit  up  with  sympathy  at  the 
pathetic  narrative,  and  he  said,  "  Tom,  you  and  I 
will  go  out,"  and  then,  seeing  the  woman's  wistful 
look,  "  We  will  return  soon ;  and  Matt,  you  must 
stay  with  your  mother,  until  we  come  back." 

When  we  got  out  into  the  squalid  streets  my 
father  said,  "  The  poor  woman  needs  nourishing 
food  and  cleanly  surroundings  more  than  medi- 
cines, and  I'm  going  to  get  both,  Tom." 

We  soon  returned  with  wood  for  a  fire,  meat  and 
groceries. 

Gratitude  is  sometimes  speechless ;  and  when 
these  things  were  brought  in  neither  made  any 
demonstration  until  we  had  kindled  the  fire,  when 
Matt's  mother  began  to  cry,  and  Matt  in  sympathy 
uttered  a  veritable  wail,  that  surpassed  the  morn- 
ing's performance.  The  woman  soon  sat  up  and 
ate  a  few  mouthfuls,  and  then  looked  around  the 
room  by  the  light  of  the  candle  we  had  lighted. 
My  father  then  sent  Matt  to  the  proper  authorities 
to  inform  them  of  the  death  of  the  little  child,  so 
that  preparations  might  be  made  for  its  burial. 

On  our  arrival  home  my  father  gave  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  scene  to  his  friends,  and  one  of  them, 
a  wealthy  merchant,  promised  to  help  the  woman 


34  rOM  CLIFTON. 

and  her  son,  and  to  send  them  West,  if  they  wished 
to  go,  as  settlers,  with  our  party. 

After  the  funeral  of  the  child,  which  my  father 
attended,  the  subject  of  going  West  was  broached 
to  Mrs.  Ryan  and  Matt,  and  they  were  told  of 
the  merchant's  proposition  to  advance  the  needful 
money,  with  the  understanding  that  they  were  to 
repay  it  when  able.  The  priest,  whom  we  had 
met  at  the  funeral,  agreed  with  my  father  that  it 
was  the  best  thing  that  Matt  and  his  mother  could 
do,  and  he  also  promised  to  give  some  assistance  to 
that  end. 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  there  are  so  many  poor  and 
helpless  ones  in  this  great  city,  God  help  them, 
that  one  can  hardly  give  without  being  reproached 
by  some  more  destitute  case." 

The  priest  promised  to  forward  to  an  address 
which  was  to  be  given  him,  any  letters  that  might 
come  from  across  the  sea  to  Mrs.  Ryan.  By  my 
father's  representations  much  sympathy  was  ex- 
cited for  Matt  and  his  mother. 

Young  as  I  was,  I  noticed  curiously  that  elo- 
quent words  excited  more  sympathy,  and  were  of 
more  eifect  in  procuring  help,  than  were  the  scenes 
of  misery  by  which  the  people  of  the  great  city  of 
New  York  were  surrounded. 

It  was  as  if  they  were  incapable  of  seeing  its 
miseries  themselves  in  a  proper  light,  unless  re- 
flected through  some  person  of  sympathetic  nature, 
who  made  them  see  with  his  eyes  and  feel  with 
his  heart. 


THE  RESULTS  OF  A   DOG-FIGHT.  35 

"  With  all  the  wealth  of  a  great  city,"  said  my 
father,  "  where  hurrying  feet  attest  the  haste  for 
this  world's  goods,  there  is  one  more  priceless 
treasure  than  all  their  gain,  —  the  power  to  sym- 
pathize with  God's  poor  who  mingle  with  them  on 
every  hand." 

This  phase  of  the  great  city  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  even  my  thoughtless  mind.  My  father 
called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  those  who, 
surrounded  by  wealth  and  luxuries,  seemed  to 
have  all  that  the  heart  could  desire,  were  less  sat- 
isfied and  less  thankful  to  God  than  the  poorest 
people  whom  we  had  known. 

"  There  seems  something  inherent  in  human 
nature,"  he  said,  "that  the  heart  is  never  satisfied 
with  attainments  of  wealth  and  pomp ;  we  cannot 
serve  two  masters,  God  and  Mammon.  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  cometh  not  with  observation. 
I  have  often  thought,  that  appreciation  of  the 
good  we  have  in  life  is  truer  wealth  than  great 
possessions." 

In  a  few  days  it  was  fully  arranged  that  Matt 
and  his  mother  should  accompany  us  to  St.  Paul, 
and  there,  with  us,  make  a  new  and  more  comfort- 
able home.  Employment  was  meanv/hile  found 
for  Matt,  and  a  comfortable  home  for  his  mother. 
Thus  it  was  that  our  little  party  was  increased 
from  four  to  six  members,  when,  in  the  following 
spring,  we  began  our  journey. 

"  The  great  West  has  been  receding   from   us 


36  TOM  CLIFTON. 

year  by  year,"  said  my  father.  "  A  few  years  ago 
New  York  and  Pennsylvania  were  spoken  of  as 
the  West,  now  the  West  has  receded  until  it 
threatens  to  slide  into  the  Pacific  and  disappear 
among  the  islands  of  the  sea." 


WESTWARD  HO!  37 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WESTWARD  HO  I 

All  was  in  a  bustle  of  preparation  for  our  jour- 
ney. Aunt  Hitty  scolded  with  her  usual  persis- 
tency. "  My  soul  and  body  !  "  she  exclaimed  with 
a  sigh.  "  What  a  man  of  education  and  respecta- 
bility wants  to  go  out  thar  and  fool  around  with 
injuns  and  sich  trash  for,  's  more  than  I  can  under- 
stand." 

"  What  makes  you  go,  Aunt  Hitty  ?  "  asked  a 
little  New  York  cousin. 

"  What  makes  me  go  ?  That's  a  pretty  ques- 
tion I  What'U  they  do  without  me  ?  Your  Uncle 
William  hasn't  a  particle  of  management.  The 
Injuns  would  scalp  the  man  and  he'd  never  know 
it!  He'd  come  home  without  his  head  on  his 
shoulders  if  some  one  didn't  look  out  for  him ;  and 
Tom,  heaven  knows  is  wild  and  uncivilized  enousfh 
without  'sociating  with  Injuns.  Lor !  but  men 
ain't  fit  to  take  care  of  themselves  anyway,"  and 
Aunt  Hitty  bustled  around,  punctuating  her  re- 
marks with  pinches  of  snuff. 

My  aunt  had  been  to  see  the  ^'■furriners^''^  as  she 
called  Matt  and  his  mother,  and  had  assisted  in 


B8  rOM  CLIFTON. 

cutting  and  making  some  plain  substantial  cloth- 
ing for  Mrs.  Ryan,  who  was  a  very  quiet  little 
woman,  and  who  showed  herself  touched  and 
thankful  for  what  was  being  done  for  her.  Matt 
was  so  busy  in  his  endeavor  to  assist,  that  my  aunt 
declared  that  he  was  as  good  as  a  man  to  help. 

While  I  liked  and  admired  Matt,  I  could  not 
understand  why  he  should  desire  to  leave  so  fasci- 
nating an  employment  as  selling  newspapers  and 
blacking  boots,  even  to  see  the  uncivilized  Indians 
of  the  wild  West. 

It  was  in  April,  1855,  when  our  party  finally 
started  on  their  Western  journey.  In  those  days 
there  Avere  but  few  of  the  conveniences  of  travel 
that  now  exist.  Sleeping  and  dining  cars  had  not 
then  been  invented  or  dreamed  of.  Each  party  of 
emigrants  provided  conveniences  for  themselves, 
or  suffered  for  want  of  them. 

Our  party  was  provided  with  two  large  lunch- 
baskets  containing  provisions  which  we  thought 
would  be  sufficient  with  what  we  could  purchase 
on  the  way,  for  a  week's  journey.  We  also  had  two 
lap-boards,  which  we  used  for  tables  by  placing  them 
on  our  laps  as  we  were  seated  opposite  to  each 
other. 

For  sleeping  we  each  had  double  blankets  and 
two  thin  but  firm  cotton  mattresses,  which,  by  the 
aid  of  two  seats  turned  opposite  to  each  other,  and 
the  lap-boards,  formed  our  beds  at  night.  During 
the  day  this  bedding  was  compactly  rolled  up  and 
put  away. 


WESTWARD  HO!  39 

At  the  stations  we  procured  hot  tea  and  coffee 
and  milk  by  the  quart  or  gallon.  Matt  proved 
very  useful  in  procuring  fresh  supplies  of  bread  and 
cakes. 

The  number  of  emigrants  travelling  by  this 
route  increased  as  we  got  farther  West,  until  a  spe- 
cial and  .more  convenient  car  was  provided  for  this 
class  of  travellers,  so  that  they  might  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  way-passengers. 

After  leaving  New  York  State  the  character  of 
the  country  began  to  change,  and  log-cabins  and 
newly  cleared  land  became  more  common.  I  there 
first  saw  men  ploughing  in  stump  lots,  surrounded 
by  grotesque  stump  fences.  The  land  began  to 
lose  the  ruggedness  of  rock  and  mountain,  and 
stretched  out  into  wide  prairies,  with  less  and  less 
of  fencing  as  we  journeyed  on. 

My  father  pointed  out  the  different  places  of 
interest  in  the  country  through  which  we  were 
passing,  like  a  panorama ;  and  his  fund  of  informa- 
tion regarding  it,  and  his  educated  taste  and  judg- 
ment, gave  me  my  first  insight  into  the  vast  expen- 
diture of  work  and  energy  in  the  settling  of  a 
great  continent.  For  the  first  time  I  began  to  take 
a  thoughtful  interest  in  the  problems  of  life  and  its 
labors.  Illinois,  with  its  charred  stumps  and  black 
soil,  had  a  depressing  influence  upon  me,  which  even 
at  this  day  I  have  not  forgotten. 

I  cannot  explain  the  phenomenal  change  that 
took  place  in  me  during  our  journey.     It  was  as 


40  TOM  CLIFTON. 

* 

though  I  had  put  away  childish  things  forever,  and 
had  begun  to  think  a  man's  thoughts.  Whether 
this  change  had  been  gradual,  and  I  had  not  before 
recognized  it,  I  know  not,  but  that  I  seemed  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life  awakened  to  its  sober 
problems  and  realities  of  life,  is  true. 

Matt's  mind  was  of  a  different  kind  frcon  mine  ; 
his  had  been  sharpened  by  his  early  struggles  for 
a  living,  in  a  great  city,  and  he  was  quick  in  decis- 
ion, and  resolute  beyond  others  of  his  age.  I  can  see 
him  now,  sturdy  and  positive,  making  his  way  into 
the  crowded  dining  stations,  for  milk,  hot  coffee, 
or  a  newspaper  for  my  father.  His  square  shoul- 
ders, confident  air,  and  his  straightforward  way  of 
saying  or  doing  things  had  a  charm  beyond  mere 
candor,  which  I  cannot  analyze  even  at  this  day. 

After  leaving  the  rough  eastern  country,  the 
level  or  rolling  land  of  the  prairie  seemed  very 
beautiful  to  my  young  eyes,  unused  to  the  wide 
world's  scenes.  There  was  a  simple  grandeur  in 
it  like  the  vastness  of  the  ocean. 

After  more  than  a  week  of  travel  we  left  the 
cars  and  took  the  stage  for  Galena,  and  after  a 
long  night's  ride  arrived  safe  and  sound,  though 
travel-stained  and  tired. 

Aunt  Mehitable  declared  with  a  sigh,  "  That 
that  thar  stagin',  it  w^as  worse  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  voyage ;  and  such  rollin'  and  tumblin' !  it  was 
worse  than  a  fore-and-aft  schooner  after  a  heavy 
wind!" 


"  '  -She  don't  sail;  slie  steams,'  growled  the  captain. ""  — Page  41. 


WESTWARD  HO!  41 

Galena  at  that  time  was  a  city  of  eight  thousand 
inhabitants,  situated  on  the  Fevre  River,  six  miles 
above  where  it  unites  with  the  Mississippi.  At 
the  levee  to  which  our  baggage  was  conveyed 
there  was  a  steamer-packet,  as  it  was  called,  which 
we  were  told  would  be  ready  to  sail  that  afternoon. 
Matt  and  I  were  left  to  watch  our  baggage,  while 
the  rest  of  the  party  washed  off  the  stain  of  travel, 
and  made  preparations  for  the  remainder  of  the 
trip. 

"No  one  can  get  away  with  them  heavy  trunks 
aisy.  An'  sure  an'  let  us  see  if  the  captain  won't 
give  us  byes  a  passage,"  said  Matt. 

"What  do  yer  want  here  ?  "  asked  a  deck-hand, 
as  we  stepped  upon  the  gang-plank. 

"  I  want  to  see  the  captain  of  this  st'amer," 
said  Matt,  lifting  his  hat  as  a  bit  of  flattery  to  the 
man. 

"  Yo'll  find  the  captain  of  the  Prairie  Queen  up 
there  on  deck,"  replied  the  deck-hand. 

So  we  went  "  up  a  bit,"  as  Matt  said,  and  the 
captain  was  pointed  out  to  us.  He  was  a  tall, 
thin  man,  with  a  weather-beaten,  wrinkled,  fever- 
and-ague  complexion,  and  was  just  cutting  to- 
bacco for  his  pipe,  when  Matt  accosted  him  with, 
"When  does  this  st'amer  sail,  sur?  " 

"  She  don't  sail ;  she  steams,"  growled  the  cap- 
tain. "  We  steam  about  one  o'clock  this  after- 
noon." 

"  Can   yer   give   me   and  my   young   master  a 


42  TOM  CLIFTON. 

chance  to  work  our  passage,  and  to  make  a  bit 
besides?"  inquired  Matt,  looking  steadily  up  into 
the  leathery  face  of  the  captain. 

The  old  man  looked  us  over  critically,  while 
holding  his  lighted  pipe  between  his  teeth,  squint- 
ing up  one  eye  as  if  for  better  observation,  and 
then  said,  addressing  me,  "  I  guess  you're  an  East- 
ern boy,  ain't  yer  ?  " 

I  replied  that  I  had  come  from  Massachusetts 
with  my  father,  the  Reverend  William  Clifton,  and 
that  we  were  going  to  Minnesota. 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  cum  from  the  State 
of  Maine  to  St.  Louis  when  I  warn't  much  bigger 
than  you  be.  What  berth  do  yer  want?  "  quizzed 
the  captain,  with  an  inward  chuckle  of  amusement 
at  his  own  remarks. 

"  Cabin-boy,  helper,  or  something  of  that  kind, 
Mister.  We'll  wait  on  passengers,  sweep,  or  tend 
table,"  replied  Matt  confidently. 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  who  had  now  got  his 
pipe  going,  and  who  looked  thoughtfully  at  Matt, 
"  You  are  up  and  dressed !  We  have  mostly 
niggers  on  this  boat  for  waiters  ;  they  are  a  wuth- 
less  set,  though,  and  I  believe  I'll  try  yer;  you 
have  got  to  work,  though  ;  no  loafing,  mind  yer !  " 

On  learning  that  with  us  was  a  party  of  tliree, 
the  captain  said,  "Well,  youngsters,  I'll  gi\e  you 
three  dollars  apiece,  and  your  board  and  passage 
to  St.  Paul,  if  you  will  be  lively.  Better  get  your 
folks   a   good   berth   before  any  more  passengers 


WESTWARD  110  !  43 

come  aboard ;  all  the  berths  er  gone  in  the  ladies' 
cabin  already." 

I  replied  that  my  father  wanted  a  stateroom. 

"  Yer  can't  get  a  stateroom  at  this  time  of  year 
when  there  is  such  a  rush,"  replied  the  old  captain. 
"  They  were  engaged  long  ago." 

Taking  the  advice  of  the  cajjtain,  we  obtained 
four  good  berths  for  our  party ;  and  it  was  fortu- 
nate that  we  did  so,  as,  before  another  hour  had 
passed,  they  were  all  taken,  and  passengers,  as 
they  arrived,  were  assigned  to  places  on  the  cabin 
floor,  and  soon  all  the  available  space  even  there 
was  taken. 

Under  the  direction  of  the  steward.  Matt  and  I 
began  to  show  people  to  places,  even  on  the  deck. 

These  people  were  of  the  most  diverse  condi- 
tions in  life.  Some  wanted  staterooms,  and  got 
instead  a  promise  of  a  place  to  sleep  on  one  of  the 
dining-tables  ;  others  were  willing  to  put  up  with 
any  inconvenience,  if  they  might  safely  and  cheaply 
arrive  at  St.  Paul. 

Before  twelve  o'clock  the  baggage  and  people 
occupied  almost  all  the  space  on  the  floor  of  the 
deck  and  cabin. 

"  We  must  make  them  stow  close,"  said  Matt ; 
for  we  had  become  interested,  and  considered  our- 
selves officials  of  the  boat.  To  some  we  gave  the 
assurance  that,  if  they  would  wait  until  night, 
they  might  have  the  upper  deck  to  sleep  on.  Oc- 
casionally we  met  the  captain,  who  glanced  at  us 


44  TOM  CLIFTON. 

without  remark ;  but  although  he  said  nothing,  he 
seemed  satisfied  with  us.  To  a  gentleman  and 
his  wife  who  had  inquired  for  a  stateroom  we 
gave  up  our  berths,  without  expectation  of  re- 
ward ;  but,  to  our  astonisment  and  satisfaction,  he 
gave  us  three  dollars  apiece. 

"  It  must  be  John  Jacob  Astor  himself,"  I  said 
to  Matt. 

"  No,"  said  Matt  shrewdly ;  "  a  real  rich  man 
wouldn't  have  been  so  generous.  Yer  see,  when 
a  man  gets  into  the  habit  of  getting  rich,  he  nips 
hard  at  a  dollar  before  he  lets  it  go  from  between 
his  thumb  and  finger.  That's  the  way  they  do  in 
New  York,  au}^  way,  payin'  for  newspapers  and 
blackin'  boots." 

From  these  observations  it  will  be  seen  that 
Matt  knew  more  of  human  nature  than  I  did. 
My  father  was  astonished  and  very  much  pleased 
when  he  learned  that  we  had  saved  our  passage, 
and,  besides,  had  a  promise  of  three  dollars  apiece 
for  our  work  during  the  passage  to  St.  Paul ;  and 
he  was  more  pleased  when  we  showed  him  the 
money  we  had  received  for  our  berths. 

"It's  jolly,"  said  Matt;  "and  sure,  we'll  save 
something  on  our  passage  money,  fur  3'er  father 
would  never  have  been  sharp  enough  to  '  did  hid ' 
us  byes  as  yer  uncle  tould  him  to." 

As  we  visited  the  cabin  to  see  how  our  friends 
were  getting  on,  I  found  my  father  talking  to  the 
gentleman  who   had   so   generously  rewarded  us 


WESTWARD  HO!  45 

for  our  berths.  Mr.  Washburne,  for  that  was  his 
name,  was  saying  that  he  had  moved  from  the  East 
four  years  previously,  and  had  settled  at  St.  Paul ; 
but  having  property  in  the  East,  he  had  been  there 
to  turn  it  into  cash,  that  he  might  invest  it  prop- 
erly in  the  Northwest,  of  which  he  spoke  in  glow- 
ing terms. 

"  Do  you  always  have  a  crowded  steamer  like 
this,  on  the  way  up  the  river?"  inquired  my 
father. 

"  No,"  replied  the  stranger ;  "  these  are  our 
spring  emigrants,  and  for  the  past  ten  or  twelve 
years  they  have  been  on  the  increase.  Last  year 
our  emigrants  were  from  the  Eastern  and  Middle 
States,  and  now  the  tide  is  constantly  increasing 
instead  of  decreasing.  The  added  facilities  offered 
to  travellers  have  had  an  influence  in  inducing  the 
population  of  the  East  to  seek  homes  in  the  fertile 
valleys  and  rich  mineral  districts  of  the  West. 
Many  ridiculous  ideas  regarding  the  West  are 
also  now  corrected  by  more  accurate  knowledge, 
and  this  also  tends  to  increase  the  number  of  those 
who  are  seeking  homes  there.  This,  with  the 
restless  desire  for  change,  which  is  a  prominent 
characteristic  of-  our  people,  will  soon  build  up  the 
Northwest. 

"  Emigration  is  pouring  in,  and,  where  a  year 
ago  there  was  unclaimed  waste  land,  houses  of 
settlers  are  now  seen  on  every  side.  In  Minnesota 
last  year  "  (and  here  he  referred  to  a  paper  lie  had 


46  TOM  CLIFTON. 

taken  from  his  pocket),  "  there  were  entered  in 
our  land  office  157,807,338  acres  of  land,  and  in 
one  year  the  United  States  received  from  the  sale 
of  public  lands  in  our  territory  one  million  of  dol- 
lars. Besides  this  the  government  had  donated  to 
old  soldiers  and  speculators  (one  for  pursuing  the 
enemy  with  zeal,  and  the  other  for  pursuing  the 
President  and  members  of  Congress),  256,781 
acres  in  land  warrants." 

'•  Was  all  the  land  sold  to  settlers  ?  "  inquired 
my  father. 

"  No  ;  about  one-half  the  land  this  year  (1854) 
was  sold  under  the  workings  of  the  Pre-emption 
Law,"  replied  Mr.  Washburne.  "  There  were  no 
land  offices  west  of  the  Mississippi  in  Minnesota 
until  1855,  but  settlers  began  to  pour  in  as  soon 
as  the  Indian  treaty,  conceding  it  to  the  General 
Government,  was  ratified;  and  so  the  population 
west  of  the  Mississippi  has  more  than  doubled 
this  year  (1855)." 

I  had  noticed  that  all  through  this  conversation 
my  father  had  shown  great  nervousness,  and  gave 
much  less  attention  than  he  naturally  would  show 
in  such  interesting  information.  He  looked  con- 
stantly towards  the  wharf,  as  if  anxiously  expect- 
ing something  to  occur  or  some  one  to  appear.  I 
had  also  noticed  this  nervousness  ever  since  he 
first  came  on  board  in  the  morning,  and  that  he 
showed  more  and  more  by  his  preoccupied  condi- 
tion of  mind  that  something  unusual  was  agitating 
him. 


WESTWARD  HO!  47 

My  father  had  excused  himself  to  Mr.  Wash- 
burne,  and  Matt  and  I  went  on  deck,  where  we 
had  secured  a  place  to  sleep  near  the  pilot-house, 
in  w^hich  we  were  allowed  to  keep  our  bedding 
during  the  day.  The  Captain  now  sent  us  on 
shore  to  bring  on  board  a  large  hamper  or  basket, 
and  also  the  trunk  of  one  of  the  .passengers  who 
had  arrived  late.  We  had  just  taken  hold  of  the 
trunk,  when,  to  my  surprise,  my  father  stepped 
from  behind  a  large  case  of  goods  which  was  stand- 
ing on  the  wharf,  and  was  followed  by  a  young 
colored  man  about  twenty-five  years  of  age. 

"  Here ! "  said  my  father,  "■  let  this  man  help 
Matt  with  the  trunk,  and  you  and  I  will  carry  the 
basket." 

The  colored  man  went  on  board,  followed  b}^  my 
father  and  myself;  and  although  I  thought  this 
occurrence  a  little  strange  at  the  time,  my  atten- 
tion was  called  from  it  by  the  ringing  of  the  bell 
and  the  blowing  of  the  whistle  and  the  pulling  in 
of  the  steamer's  gang-plank,  and  by  our  start  up 
the  river. 

I  next  saw  the  colored  man  lying  in  my  father's 
berth,  and  was  about  to  tell  him  to  get  out,  when 
my  father  took  me  by  the  arm,  and,  although  he 
said  nothing,  I  knew  by  his  manner  that  the  man 
was  there  with  his  consent. 


48  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  V. 

UP  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

We  were  now  steaming  down  the  river  with  new 
scenery  on  every  side.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and 
after  a  backward,  rainy  season  we  were  having  mild 
weather,  with  a  blue  sky  and  a  balmy  atmosphere. 
The  landscape  seen  from  the  steamer  was  of  vernal 
freshness  and  beauty.  As  we  descended  the  Fever 
River  a  bend  shut  the  city  of  Galena  from  view. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Washburn,  with  whom  we 
were  talking,  "  there  is  the  Mississippi  on  the 
other  side  of  that  bank.  That  low  strip  of  land 
is  called  the  '  portage,'  and  a  canal  cut  across  it 
would  bring  the  city  of  Galena  three  miles  nearer 
the  river." 

In  a  few  minutes  our  boat  had  emerged  into  the 
broad  and  rapid  current  of  the  Mississippi. 

"This  river,"  said  Mr.  Washburn,  "is  indeed  the 
'Father  of  Waters.'" 

"  Yes,"  said  my  father,  addressing  himself  to  the 
whole  party,  "it  is  majestic  in  all  its  belongings; 
the  numerous  tributaries  constantly  replenishing 
its  waters,  the  extensive  valley's  drained  by  these 
tributaries,  and  the  immense  resources  afforded  to 


My  father  reproves  Aunt  Hitty  for  speaking  lightly  of  the 
Mississippi.  —  Page  49. 


UP   THE  MISSISSIPPI.  49 

commerce  by  such  a  raultitiide  of  navigable  streams, 
make  it  the  monarch  of  American  rivers." 

"  Don't  preach  about  it !  "  said  Aunt  Hitty,  in 
an  undertone,  intended  only  for  my  father.  "I 
suppose  there  are  other  rivers  besides  this  muddy 
mill-race." 

My  father  turned  slowly  around,  and  in  the  man- 
ner of  offended  dignity  with  which  he  would  have 
silenced  one  of  his  deacons  who  questioned  the 
soundness  of  his  theology,  replied,  "  Mehitable 
Ryder,  a  river  that  extends  through  eighteen  de- 
grees of  latitude,  laving  the  soil  of  nine  gigantic 
States  and  one  Territory;  affording  with  its  tributa- 
ries twenty  thousand  miles  of  navigation  and  float- 
ing a  thousand  steam  craft ;  producing  on  its  banks 
the  orange  and  the  sugar-cane  of  the  tropics,  and 
the  Norway  pine  and  moss-covered  plants  of  the 
polar  region,  —  is  unequalled  by  any  other  river  in 
the  world  !  Should  a  war  ever  sweep  over  this  fair 
region  (which  Heaven  avert,  though  the  sins  of  our 
country  are  many),  whoever  holds  the  Mississippi 
holds  the  seat  of  empire." 

A'fter  this  burst  of  descriptive  oratory  he  seemed 
to  forget  his  displeasure  and  added,  "  The  Territory 
to  which  we  are  emigrating  is  fortunately  situated ; 
it  touches  with  one  hand  the  great  lakes  that  give 
an  outlet  for  its  produce  by  the  way  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  River  to  the  Atlantic,  and  with  the  other 
the  Mississippi,  leading  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico ;  by 
virtue  of  her  products  she  must  become  an  impor- 


50  TOM  CLIFTON. 

taut  State  in  our  great  American  Empire.  A  won- 
derful future  awaits  us  as  a  nation  I  " 

At  this  instant  Matt  pulled  at  my  jacket,  saying, 
"  We  must  go  and  help  set  the  tables ;  "  and  as  we 
went  to  the  cabin  he  said,  "  Yer  father  has  got  more 
learnin'  in  his  hid  than  Tim  McGrath,  the  alder- 
man ;  an'  sure  he  knows  a  wonderful  dale  for  a  man 
who  isn't  sharp  at  all." 

"Why,  don't  you  think  m}^  father  sharp.  Matt?" 

"  No ;  an'  sure,  it's  yer  aunt's  the  sharp  one,  she 
is." 

I  repeat  this  conversation  as  showing  Matt's 
quick  appreciation  of  personal  traits  in  those  whom 
he  met. 

After  our  duties  had  been  performed  under  the 
supervision  of  the  steward  of  the  boat,  we  were 
allowed  to  go  on  deck  once  more,  and  there  found 
my  father  talking  with  the  captain,  Avho,  having 
heard  his  remarks  about  the  Mississippi,  had  con- 
ceived a  great  respect  for  him  and  wanted  to  talk 
about  liis  favorite  river, 

"  I  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  in  Galena,"  said 
tlie  captain.  "•!  cum  here  from  '  Old  Toavu'  on  the 
Penobscot  River,  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  first  lived 
in  St.  Louis  and  then  cum  up  to  Galena  in  a 
bateau." 

"  Did  you  row  up  the  river?  "  I  inquired. 

"  No,  we  cum  up  the  Mississippi  in  them  days 
by  bushwhacking,  cordeling,  and  warping,"  said 
the  captain. 


UP   THE  MISSISSIPPI.  51 

•'  I  don't  understand  those  terms,"  said  my  father 
inquiringly. 

"  Well,  well,  I  don't  suppose  Eastern  people  do 
know  much  about  such  things,"  said  the  captain 
in  the  tone  of  one  who  considered  such  ignorance 
lamentable,  but  to  some  extent  excusable,  for  want 
of  proper  education. 

"  Eastern  folks  is  ignorant,  though  I  did  cum 
from  thar  myself.  Cordeling  is  where  men  walk 
along  the  shore  and  draw  a  boat  by  a  rope  tied 
to  it.  Yer  can't  do  much  at  it,  though,  when  the 
water  is  high.  Bushwhacking  is  when  yer  pull 
the  boat  along  by  gittin'  a  holt  of  the  bushes  along 
the  shore.  Warping  used  to  be  the  best  way :  we 
had  two  sets  of  boats  and  lines  ;  one  end  of  a  line 
was  fastened  to  a  tree  or  stake  on  the  shore,  and 
then  the  men  in  the  bateau  threw  a  line  over  their 
shoulders  and  would  walk  to  the  stern,  then  drop 
the  line  and  run  back  to  the  bow  and  take  a  holt  of 
it  agin,  meanwhile  the  other  boat  attaches  another 
line  further  up  the  river.  It  was  rather  slow  work 
to  what  I  can  do  with  this  steam  packet,  though," 
said  the  captain,  with  a  look  of  pride  and  com- 
placency ;  "  I  can  cum  up  now  in  as  many  hours  as 
it  used  to  take  days.  The  Mississippi  wouldn't  be 
much  without  steam  ;  but  with  it  she  is  a  hull  team, 
and  a  dog  under  the  wagon. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  if  war  should  cum, 
whoever  holds  the  Mississippi  holds  the  country. 
Well,  that's  true  when  yer  have  steam  to  make  a 


52         -  TOM  CLIFTON. 

boat  walk  over  the  water,  but  if  yer  had  to  do  it 
with  warping  or  cordeling  the  world  would  cum 
to  an  end  before  yer  could  do  anything  except  go 
down  stream." 

One  feature  of  the  upper  Mississippi  which  in- 
terested me  was  the  bluffs,  or  isolated  hills,  which 
stand  on  its  banks  like  sentinels  guarding  its 
waters.  In  some  places  these  bluffs  are  precipi- 
tous and  rugged,  presenting  a  castellated  front 
of  rocks  from  two  to  five  hundred  feet  high,  and 
almost  overhanging  the  water ;  again  they  grace- 
fully slope  back  from  the  water's  edge  to  their 
summits,  with  here  and  there  small  groves  of  oaks 
looking  like  New  England  orchards.  Many  of 
them  are  but  a  succession  of  equally  high  and 
beautiful  promontories  of  every  conceivable  shape 
and  size,  stretching  up  the  valley  of  some  tributary 
stream. 

These  ranges  of  bluffs  on  both  sides  of  the  river 
are  from  one  to  four  miles  apart.  The  river  winds 
along  a  valley  or  washes  the  base  of  rugged  cliffs 
on  the  eastern  shore  for  miles,  while  on  the  opposite 
side  are  seen  hills  towering  above  the  woodlands  in 
the  intervening  valley  ;  or  again,  it  divides  into 
numerous  channels,  thus  forming  islands  covered 
with  dense  foliage.  From  the  time  of  our  entering 
the  Mississippi  until  our  arrival  at  Lake  Pepin  we 
were  seldom  out  of  sight  of  one  or  more  of  these 
islands.  About  three  o'clock  we  were  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  beautiful  prairie  lands  below  Du- 


UP   THE  MISSISSIPPI.  53 

buque.  They  looked,  as  my  father  said,  as  if  they 
had  been  cleared  by  the  hand  of  man,  who  had 
then  abandoned  them  or  liad  himself  been  swept 
away. 

At  four  o'clock  we  made  a  landing  at  Dubuque, 
at  that  time  a  city  of  eight  or  ten  thousand  inhal> 
itants,  and  Matt  and  I  were  kept  busy  waiting 
on  passengers  who  came  aboard.  We  were  just 
ready  to  pull  in  the  gang-plank  when  a  team  drove 
on  the  wharf  in  great  haste,  and  the  driver  in- 
quired for  the  captain,  saying  he  had  with  him  an 
officer  with  a  warrant  to  search  the  boat.  The 
packet  was  detained  while  every  part  of  the  boat 
was  thoroughly  examined.  It  was  noised  about 
that  these  men  were  a  United  States  officer  and  the 
owner  of  a  fugitive  slave,  who  it  was  suspected  had 
secreted  himself  on  the  "  Prairie  Queen." 

Matt  said  to  me  in  a  whisper,  "An'  sure,  it 
couldn't  be  that  nagur  that  came  on  board  with  yer 
father,  could  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not !  "  I  replied;  but  though  my  re- 
ply was  so  decisive,  I  had  serious  misgivings  and 
was  not  so  sure  as  my  words  implied.  I  felt  relieved 
when,  after  a  diligent  search,  the  fugitive  was  not 
found  on  board.  The  gang-plank  was  pulled  in, 
and  we  were  once  more  on  our  way  up  the  river. 

Afterwards  Matt  and  I  went  on  the  upper  deck 
and  talked  the  matter  over  in  whispers,  but  could 
come  to  no  conclusion  regarding  the  mystery,  for 
the  colored  man  that  had  come  on  board  with  my 


54  TOM  CLIFTON. 

father  was  evidently  not  one  of  the  servants  belong- 
ing to  the  boat. 

As  we  were  leaving  Dubuque  we  noticed  a  large 
stone  house  built  between  two  high,  perpendicular 
rocks  at  the  base  of  a  cliff. 

"  Who  could  have  built  such  a  house  in  such  a 
place  ? "  inquired  Aunt  Mehitable  of  the  cap- 
tain. 

"  That !  humph !  it's  the  landin'-place  of  the 
town  of  Sinape  wliich  is  on  the  bluff  above,  —  all 
there  is  of  it,"  said  the  captain  contemptuously. 

"  Why,  what's  become  of  the  town,  for  the  land 
sakes  ?  "  asked  my  aunt  in  astonishment. 

"  Well,  durin'  the  land  speculatin'  times,  they 
befjan  this  town  as  a  sort  of  rival  of  Galena  as 
a  lead  depot ;  didn't  'mount  to  much,  tho'  ;  they 
kind  o'  petered  out,  and  that  thar  stun  house  is 
its  remains  !  " 

At  about  nine  o'clock  we  made  a  landing  at  a 
lead  depot  established  by  a  Boston  company,  one 
hundred  and  sixty  miles  from  Galena. 

At  daylight  the  next  morning  we  began  prepar- 
ing for  breakfast,  arousing  from  sleep  those  who 
liad  made  their  beds  on  the  tables  and  on  the  cabin 
floor.  After  breakfast  we  went  on  deck  and  found 
that  we  were  just  passing  the  mouth  of  the  Wis- 
consin River.  The  captain  told  us  that  it  was  only 
since  1849  that  light-draught  steamers  had  begun 
to  run  on  that  river.  Five  miles  above  its  mouth 
Prairie  du  Chien  is  beautifully  situated.    We  made 


UP   THE  MISSISSIPPI.  65 

a  landing  here,  and  took  on  board  a  family  with 
their  household  goods,  farming  implements,  and 
a  few  cows  and  horses.  The  family  consisted  of  a 
man,  his  wife,  and  two  daughters.  We  found  that 
they,  like  ourselves,  were  emigrating  to  the  new 
Territory. 

No  incident  occurred  during  the  day,  except 
that  we  stopped  at  Lansing,  the  northwest  settle- 
ment of  Iowa,  and  formerly  a  village  of  the  Winne- 
bago Indians  who  had  been  removed  to  Crow  Wing 
River  in  1858.  We  were  soon  in  the  southern  part 
of  the  Territory  of  Minnesota,  which  my  father 
told  us  contained  an  area  of  sixty  thousand  square 
miles,  the  territorial  government  of  which  had  been 
established  in  1849. 

We  made  Pratt's  Landing,  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Chippewa  River,  the  next  morning  after  break- 
fast, and  my  father  informed  us  that  it  was  our 
last  day  on  the  Mississippi. 

Soon  after  leaving  Read's  Landing  the  river 
began  to  broaden  into  a  magnificent  sheet  of  water, 
five  miles  Avide  and  twenty-five  long.  This  broad- 
ening of  the  Mississippi  is  known  as  Lake  Pepin. 
Up  to  this  point  we  had  hardly  been  out  of  sight 
of  the  islands,  which  are  such  a  peculiar  feature 
of  the  river ;  but  on  this  great  body  of  water  there 
are  no  islands.  The  captain  told  us  that  the  water 
was  very  deep,  and  that  there  was  no  perceptible 
current. 

''  I  sometimes  have  an  idee,"  said  the  captain, 


56  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  that  the  bottom  of  this  lake  has  di'opped  out  and 
the  islands  with  it." 

"What  point  is  that?"  I  asked  as  we  passed  a 
headland  which  seemed  to  project  into  the  lake. 

"  Pint !  no  pint,"  said  the  captain  sarcastically, 
and  it  proved  to  be  a  bend  in  the  lake  and  no  point 
at  all. 

We  amused  ourselves  by  looking  over  the  hurri- 
cane deck  at  the  huge  shovel-fish  and  sturgeon 
dartingf  in  front  of  our  steamer.  The  Indians 
spear  these  fish  under  the  ice  during  tlie  winter 
and  in  shallow  places  during  open  weather. 

The  captain  pointed  out  to  us  an  Indian  village, 
and  with  the  aid  of  a  spyglass  we  saw  several 
canoes. 

At  the  approach  to  the  lake,  on  the  left,  is  a 
rocky  point  of  land  which  stands  like  a  sentinel 
guarding  the  entrance. 

Twelve  miles  farther  up,  another  rocky  promon- 
tory obstructs  the  upper  view  of  the  lake,  which 
here  makes  a  curve.  Passing  this  portion  of  the 
lake,  we  found  it  enclosed  with  bluffs  rising  several 
hundred  feet,  and  presenting  a  variety  of  odd  and 
picturesque  forms,  with  depressions  and  ravines, 
with  here  a  vertical  wall  of  rock,  and  there  a 
•gentle  slo23e  covered  with  trees  and  grass,  while 
a  mountain  standing  alone  seemed  to  guard  the 
vale. 

At  noon  we  passed  a  rock  on  the  east  side  of 
the  river  which  is  perpendicular   and   about   two 


UP  THE  MISSISSIPPI.  57 

hundred  feet  high.  Mr.  Washburn  told  us  that  it 
was  Maiden's  Rock,  and  about  it  there  was  an 
interesting  tradition. 

An  Indian  girl  named  Winona  loved  a  young 
hunter,  but  her  father  and  kinsmen  wished  her 
to  marry  a  warrior  of  her  own  tribe.  While  on 
an  excursion  up  this  lake  her  father  told  her 
she  must  give  up  her  lover  and  be  married  to  the 
wairior  on  that  day.  The  girl,  enraged  and  des- 
perate, broke  away  from  the  party,  determined  to 
die  rather  than  not  marry  the  lover  of  her  choice. 
She  reached  the  top  of  the  rock,  and  from  there, 
upbraiding  her  father  and  friends  for  their  cruelty, 
she  sang  her  death  dirge.  Her  father  promised  to 
leave  her  free  if  she  would  forego  her  design.  In 
reply  she  sang  her  death-song  as  follows  :  — 

You  are  cruel  to  me  and  my  lover, 

But  Winona  no  longer  fears  j'ou, 

Her  heart  is  her  own, 

And  she  cannot  trust  you  ; 

She  is  free  and  she  scorns  you  ; 

You  shall  know  how  true 

Winona  can  be  to  her  lover  ; 

yhe  can  die,  but  weds  not, 

When  her  heart  belongs  to  another." 

And  then  with  a  wild  lament,  regardless  of  the 
entreaties  and  promises  of  her  father,  she  threw 
herself  from  the  precipice  and  her  mangled  body 
was  found  on  the  rocks  below.  "  That  is  the  story 
told  to  me  by  a  half-breed  some  years  ago,"  said 
Mr.  Washburn. 


58  T03I  CLIFTON. 

"I  wish  I  was  on  top  of  one  of  them  rocks," 
said  Matt ;  "  sure  I  could  look  all  over  the  country." 

Mr.  Washburn,  who  was  near  at  hand,  replied, 
"You've  got  a  wrong  idea,  youngster.  The  top 
of  that  bluff  is  on  a  level  with  the  prairie  and  the 
surrounding  country.  You  see.  Eastern  people 
have  got  the  idea  that  prairie  land  is  damp  and 
low.  When  on  that  bluff  you  stand  on  the  verge 
of  a  vast  expanse  of  prairie,  rolling  in  gentle 
undulations,  with  Lake  Pepin  two  hundred  feet 
below.  This  is  also  the  character  of  the  prairie 
on  the  western  tributaries  of  the  Mississippi,  from 
the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  to  the  western  bounda- 
ries of  Minnesota." 

At  last,  after  passing  up  the  St.  Croix  River  to 
Stillwater,  we  returned  to  the  Mississippi.  On 
turning  a  point  of  land  a  mile  below  St.  Paul  we 
got  a  fine  view  of  that  city. 

It  is  situated  on  the  high  lands  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, three  hundred  and  twenty-seven  miles  by 
water  from  Galena. 

"  It  is  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,"  said  Mr.  Washburn  with  the 
pride  of  a  Western  man,  "  and  a  few  years  ago 
when  I  first  came  here  it  was  a  wilderness ;  now  it 
is  a  city  of  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  with  substan- 
tial warehouses  and  churches,  and  is  destined  to 
be  a  great  city." 

A  group  of  inquisitive  people  was  on  the  wharf 
to  see  the  boat  come  in.     There  were  ladies  expect- 


y 


UP   THE  MISSISSIPPI.  59 

ing  friends,  there  were  merchants,  editors,  car-men, 
and  coachmen,  but  what  most  attracted  our  atten- 
tion was  the  Indians  in  the  group,  with  their  red 
blankets  and  picturesque  dress. 

"Some  of  these  people,"  said  Mr.  Washburn, 
"  speak  French,  some  English,  and  some  Chippe- 
way.  See  that  Indian !  That  is  a  chief  of  the 
tribe." 

"  Sure,  he  is  a  gay  one,"  said  Matt. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  red  blanket,  with  fanciful 
leo-ginors  of  deer-skin,  and  beaded  moccasins,  while 
his  hair  hung  in  long  braids,  and  was  ornamented 
with  ribbons  and  feathers.  His  face  was  painted 
in  a  variety  of  colors.  He  was  in  stature  very  tall 
and  erect;  seeming  to  my  eyes  a  veritable  lion 
among  men.  Beside  him  was  a  dark-eyed  squaw, 
with  a  pappoose  wrapped  in  a  blanket  on  her 
back. 

On  landing  we  found  my  uncle  John  waiting 
with  an  open  carriage  to  take  us  to  his  home. 
We  were  in  Minnesota,  and  to  my  aunt's  evident 
surprise  were  still  among  civilized  people. 

We  had  scarcely  got  seated  in  the  carriage  and 
were  waiting  for  my  father  who  had  stayed  on 
board,  when  a  great  commotion  arose  on  the  wharf. 
A  colored  man  had  been  seen  coming  off  the  boat, 
who  had  not  paid  his  passage,  and  who,  it  was 
supposed,  was  the  fugitive  slave  for  whom  a 
search  had  been  made  at  Dubuque.  He  was  on 
the  wharf  surrounded  by  a  curious  group  of  on- 


60  TOM  CLIFTON. 

lookers,  when  my  father  was  seen  to  speak  to  the 
captain,  who  nodded  his  head  in  approval,  and  in 
a  moment  the  black  man,  who  had  begun  to  look 
uneasy  and  anxious,  was  released. 

As  m}^  father  turned  towards  the  carriage  he 
said  to  the  bystanders,  "  The  captain  knows  about 
this  man.  He  is  now  a  free  man  who  has  dead- 
headed his  passage,  which  1  have  agreed  to  pay." 


THE  OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.     61 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE   OUTLOOK   FOE   OUR   NEW    HOME. 

"  William  !  what  scrape  have  you  been  getting 
into  now  ?  "  said  my  uncle  John  quizzically. 

My  father  was  an  outspoken  man  ;  and,  although 
he  perhaps  assumed  too  much  in  believing  that 
most  men  when  put  to  a  practical  test  felt  as  he 
did  regarcUng  slavery,  yet  his  belief  that  men  were 
more  humane  in  practice  than  in  theory  was  in 
effect  often  shown  to  be  correct.  I  do  not  think 
my  uncle,  who  was  a  well-known  Democratic  poli- 
tician, and  who  afterwards  became  governor  of  the 
State  of  Minnesota,  was  exactly  prepared  for  my 
father's  answer  when  he  said,  very  simply,  "  I  hope 
I  am  doing  no  harm,^John,  in  helping  a  man  to 
his  own ;  in  making  a  free  man  of  a  slave." 

My  uncle  looked  at  my  father  in  astonishment 
for  a  moment,  and  then  with  a  prolonged  whistle 
whipped  up  his  team  as  if  to  escape  discussion. 

That  evening  after  our  arrival  I  happened  to  go 
into  his  private  room,  and  found  my  father  in  con- 
versation with  him  and  the  young  colored  man, 
whom  they  called  Aleck.  From  what  I  heard 
them  say  I  had  very  good  reason  to  believe  that 


62  TOM  CLIFTON. 

though  a  pro-slavery  man  in  theory,  in  practice,  in 
this  case  at  least,  my  uncle  was  assisting  in  run- 
ning a  section  of  the  underground  railroad  for  the 
transfer  of  fugitive  slaves  from  slavery  to  free- 
dom. 

There  was  a  note  of  admiration  in  Matt's  voice 
when,  knowing  the  facts,  he  said,  "  Butyer  father's 
clear  grit  all  through,  to  kape  so  cool  when  they 
were  makin'  all  that  row  about  that  nagur." 

Matt's  admiration  for  my  father  has  been  a  con- 
stant source  of  surprise  to  me  in  later  years,  for  it 
showed  that  he  was  capable  of  appreciating  the 
simple  but  heroic  side  of  his  character. 

On  our  arrival  at  my  uncle's,  aunt  Mehitable 
expressed  astonishment  that  he  lived  in  so  civilized 
a  manner ;  for  his  house  was  furnished  in  a  style 
that  would  compare  favorably  with  New  England 
homes  whose  owners  Avere  in  the  same  circum- 
stances as  my  uncle. 

While  the  surroundings  of  the  city  of  St.  Paul 
had  at  that  time  the  look  of  a  country  newly 
opened  to  civilization,  its  homes  and  stores  and 
public  buildings  had  the  conveniences,  if  not  the 
luxuries,  of  older  communities. 

Such  was  the  surprising  enterprise  of  the  North- 
western settlers  that  on  every  side,  towns  may  be 
said  to  have  sprung  up  as  if  by  magic,  like  Alad- 
din's palace,  in  a  single  night. 

I  think  the  fact  of  finding  Minnesota  so  differ- 
ent from  her  expectations  reconciled  my  aunt,  as  it 


THE   OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.      63 

does  all  new  settlers,  to  the  harsher  phases  of  fron- 
tier life  that  she  afterwards  experienced.  She  saw 
by  this  example  that  its  rough  inconveniences 
were  of  short  duration,  and  that  the  settlers  were 
soon  able  to  enjoy  luxuries  and  comforts. 

My  uncle  at  first  attempted  to  induce  my  father 
to  remain  in  St.  Paul  and  enter  upon  the  work  of 
the  ministry  again.  My  father  declared  that  while 
under  some  circumstances  he  should  consider  this 
to  be  his  duty,  yet  his  health  and  strength,  though 
now  improved,  were  yet  so  precarious  that  he 
deemed  it  his  duty  to  abandon  for  a  time  his  pro- 
fession. His  long  ministry  in  New  England  had 
affected  his  general  health,  while  the  hemorrhages 
of  the  throat  or  lungs  were  not  likely  to  be  bene- 
fited by  public  speaking. 

As  his  pale  face  and  constant  cough  empha- 
sized this  view  of  the  case,  my  uncle  John,  who 
was  a  very  practical  business  man,  agreed  with 
him  that  he  had  better  pre-empt  some  good  land 
for  a  homestead.  With  good  management  this 
would  in  a  few  years  place  him  in  comfortable 
circumstances  and  might  at  the  same  time  restore 
his  liealth. 

After  this  plan  had  been  determined  upon,  there 
began  a  discussion  as  to  where  we  should  make  a 
home. 

In  the  Minneapolis  district  nearly  all  the  good 
land  was  pre-empted,  and  my  father  did  not  feel 
willing  to  buy  an  improved  farm.     He  preferred 


64  TOM  CLIFTON. 

to  select  a  land  claim  wliere  there  was  a  large 
choice  of  selection. 

In  the  Sauk  Rapids  district  twenty-two  towns 
had  been  surveyed,  and  in  the  Brownville  district 
one  hundred;  all  these  were  subject  to  pre-emp- 
tion. 

My  father  finally  determined  to  spend  a  week 
or  more  if  necessary  in  selecting  our  future  home. 
So,  early  in  the  week,  he  and  uncle  John  went  up 
the  Mississippi  on  the  little  steamer  Governor 
Ramsey,  to  a  location  where  many  fine  farms  were 
awaiting  owners. 

Matt  had  been  Yery  desirous  of  accompanying 
them ;  but  my  uncle  represented  to  him  that  it 
would  be  an  outlay  of  money  that  he  could  not 
afford,  and  before  leaving,  obtained  for  him  a  tem- 
porary situation  caring  for  horses.  Matt  was 
naturally  fond  of  animals,  and  soon  made  himself 
very  useful.  Mrs.  Ryan,  meanwhile,  began  earn- 
ing good  wages  by  washing  and  ironing.  My 
uncle  thought  that  Matt  and  his  mother  had 
better  save  all  the  money  possible  before  pre-empt- 
ing land  of  their  own.  My  father  proposed  to 
employ  them  both  on  small  wages  for  awhile. 

The  right  of  pre-emption  means  the  right  of  pur- 
chasing land  before  others,  and  the  law  and  its 
conditions  were  so  little  understood  by  us,  that, 
like  most  emigrants  from  the  East,  we  had  these 
things  to  learn. 

W^  learned  first,  that  the   settler   must  never 


THE   OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.     65 

before  have  had  the  benefit  of  pre-emption  under 
the  act ;  second,  tliat  one  pre-empting  land  should 
not  be  the  owner  of  the  amount  of  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty  acres  of  land  in  any  State  or 
Territory  in  the  United  States  ;  third,  that  the  pre- 
emptor  must  settle  upon  and  improve  the  land  for 
his  own  exclusive  use  and  benefit,  and  not  with 
the  intention  of  selling  or  speculating  with  it; 
that  he  must  not  make,  directly  or  otherwise,  any 
contract  or  agreement  by  which  the  land  shall  in- 
ure to  the  benefit  of  any  other  person  tlian  himself. 

The  first  thing  to  consider  was  whether  we 
should  choose  timber  or  prairie  land  for  a  farm. 
There  were  advantages  in  both.  The  cost  of 
clearing  up  timber  land  was,  however,  about 
twenty  dollars  an  acre,  while  the  cost  of  breaking 
tiie  prairie  was  not  over  three  or  four  dollars  an 
acre,  and  could  be  done  by  the  settlers.  And  my 
father  wished  to  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that 
very  good  crops  of  potatoes,  oats,  corn,  and  often 
wheat  could  be  raised  on  the  sod. 

In  the  course  of  a  week  my  father  returned  to 
St.  Paul,  very  enthusiastic  over  the  conntry,  and 
looking  stronger  than  we  had  seen  him  for  a  long 
time.  It  was  evident  that  the  clear,  bracing  air  of 
Minnesota  was  producing  a  beneficial  effect  on  him. 
He  had  selected  some  land  in  the  Sauk  Rapids  dis- 
trict, not  many  miles  from  the  Mississippi  River. 
Uncl-e  said  that  his  selection  was  an  excellent  one. 

We  at  once  began  making  preparations  for  our 


66  TOM  CLIFTON. 

new  home,  in  order  to  get  to  work  on  the  land  as 
soon  as  possible.  The  site  selected  for  onr  farm 
could  be  reached  partly  by  the  river  or  wholly  by 
the  prairie  route,  which  was  travelled  to  some  ex- 
tent. It  was  near  the  military  road  to  Fort  Rip- 
ley, a  military  post  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  from 
the  location  of  our  future  home. 

The  next  day  after  their  return  we  learned  that 
there  was  to  be  a  sale  of  condemned  Government 
stores  at  Fort  Snelling ;  and  we  thought  there 
might  be  wagons  and  harness,  and  possibly  horses 
and  mules,  that  we  might  obtain  at  very  low 
prices. 

So  the  next  day  we  drove  to  Fort  Snelling, 
which  is  about  eight  miles  from  St.  Paul,  at  the 
confluence  of  the  Minnesota  and  Mississippi  riv- 
ers. The  fort,  being  no  longer  needed,  was  used 
as  a  rendezvous  for  soldiers  and  as  a  store-house. 
Its  situation  is  very  picturesque,  standing  like 
a  fortress  of  olden  times,  on  a  rugged,  rocky 
bluff,  one  hundred  feet  above  the  bottom-land 
of  the  rivers.  It  is  in  the  form  of  a  hexagon,  and 
was  erected  in  1819.  Its  elevated  position  once 
commanded  both  rivers ;  but  now  it  is  of  little  use, 
as  modern  cannon  could  command  it  from  the 
higher  land  around. 

Matt  and  I  made  an  excursion  up  the  steep  side 
of  the  bluff,  and  found  the  white,  sugar-like  forma- 
tion just  below  the  fort  to  be  full  of  swallows' 
holes.     We  got  some  bad  tumbles,  and  gave  up 


THE   OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.     67 

farther  exploration  in  that  direction.  We  had, 
however,  a  beautiful  view  of  the  green,  grassy  bot- 
tom land  below. 

At  the  sale,  my  father  purchased  two  large  bag. 
Sfaofe  wasfons,  sucli  as  had  been  used  to  carry 
engineers'  tools  and  supplies.  They  were  in  very 
good  condition  for  ordinary  use.  He  also  bought 
several  condemned  tents,  and  tent  flies,  which  were 
sold  very  cheap. 

Matt,  much  to  our  amusement,  put  in  a  bid  for 
a  pair  of  very  lean  mules,  covered  with  sores  caused 
by  chafing  harness  and  hard  usage  in  campaigning 
over  the  prairies.  He  had  been  examining  their 
feet  and  legs  very  critically,  and  declared  to  me  that 
there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  the  mules  only 
that  they  had  sores  and  lice.  That  seemed  enough, 
for  they  were  covered  with  scabs  and  vermin  and 
were  pitiful-looking  beasts.  Matt  paid  only  fifteen 
dollars  for  the  pair.  He  also  bought  an  old  wagon 
without  a  top  for  eight  dollars,  and  some  fragments 
of  old  harness  for  two  dollars.  J^Iy  father,  mean- 
while, bought  some  very  fair  harness,  some  shovels, 
picks,  and  spades,  and  also  a  good  pair  of  working 
mules. 

Matt  began  at  once  washing  his  mules  with  soap 
and  warm  water,  which  he  obtained  at  the  barracks, 
and  it  was  amusing  to  see  how  careful  he  was  of 
those  animals.  When  some  of  the  bystanders  teased 
him  they  found  the  ex-newsboy  their  match  at 
chaff. 


68  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Are  you  goin'  to  set  up  a  mule  hospital  ?  "  in- 
quired one. 

"  Yes,  an'  sure,  but  we  want  dacent  men  fur  doc- 
tors, and  so  you  needn't  apply,"  said  Matt. 

To  my  uncle  he  said,  "  The  legs  and  feet  of  thim 
mules  is  first  rate ;  and  the  man  I  worked  for  in  St. 
Paul  said  if  the  legs  and  feet  of  a  mule  is  good,  it 
don't  matter  what  else  is  the  disthress  of  thim." 

After  the  careful  washing.  Matt  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  the  harness,  which  he  changed  so  that  the 
wagon  could  be  drawn  by  a  breast-plate  and  traces, 
and  thus  avoid  the  chafing. 

A  young  officer  of  engineers,  named  Preston,  who 
had  been  talking  to  my  sister  Bess,  here  began  to 
glance  at  Matt  and  his  mules.  He  was  at  first  in- 
clined to  laugh,  but  finally  examined  both  mules 
and  harness,  and  expressed  his  approbation  of 
Matt's  ingenuity,  and  called  the  attention  of  an 
older  officer  to  the  extemporized  harness.  When 
Matt  started  his  team,  and  the  crowd  made  him 
and  his  mules  th^  butt  of  much  ridicule,  the  older 
officer  said,  "  That  boy  is  no  fool :  if  our  men  had 
been  as  sensible  as  he  is,  those  mules  would  never 
have  been  condemned.  The  boy  has  as  good  as 
picked  up  a  hundred  dollars,  or  more." 

Then  he  turned  to  Matt  and  inquired  his  name 
and  age,  and  said,  "If  you  were  old  enough,  and 
would  enlist  in  my  regiment,  I  would  make  you  my 
farrier." 

But  Matt  was  not  thinking  of  army  life  at  that 


THE   OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.     69 

time,  although  he  afterwards  entered  the  army,  as 
will  be  seen  in  the  course  of  this  narrative. 

On  our  return  from  Fort  Snelling,  my  father 
having  expressed  a  wish  to  buy  some  good  horses, 
Matt  informed  him  that  he  knew  of  a  man  that  had 
some  fine  draught  horses  for  sale.  This  showed 
that  Matt  had  kept  his  wits  about  him  and  his  eyes 
and  ears  open.  With  Matt's  assistance  my  father 
bought  for  two  hundred  dollars,  a  pair  of  large 
gray  horses  ;  also  a  large  wagon  like  an  express- 
wagon,  two  cows,  and  a  pair  of  young  horses. 

Matt  bought  an  old  sow  and  a  goat  which  he  de- 
clared was  an  Irishman's  cow. 

"  An'  sure  the  pig  will  plase  me  mother,  and  be 
company  for  her  and  the  goat." 

Uncle  John  was  pleased  with  Matt's  acuteness, 
and  offered  him  a  place  in  his  store ;  but  Matt  re- 
plied, "  And  shure  what  should  I  do  with  me  mules 
and  pig?  "  So  Matt  still  determined  to  go  with  us 
and  work  at  first  for  my  father  until  he  got  ready 
to  pre-empt  a  claim  for  himself. 

It  was  thouglit  best  to  leave  my  sister  and  aunt 
at  uncle  John's,  taking  Mrs.  Ryan  with  us  to  do  the 
work  until  our  habitation  was  somewhat  settled. 
But  aunt  Hitty  declared  she  would  not  be  left 
behind. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "  the  boy  would  never  wash  his 
face  and  hands  if  I  didn't  go.  He'll  get  into  all 
sorts  of  scrapes,  too,  and  Mr.  Clifton,  land  knows, 
wouldn't  know  where  anything  was  if  I  didn't  go 


70  TOM  CLIFTON. 

with  him.  The  Injuns  would  scalp  him  and  he'd 
never  know  it." 

To  tell  the  truth,  my  father  was  very  absent- 
minded  ;  and  so  this""  setting  out,"  as  uncle  John 
called  it,  made  him  laugh  heartily.  It  was  finally 
decided  to  leave  my  sister  Bess  at  uncle  John's. 

Before  leaving  St.  Paul  my  father  had  hired  a 
half-breed  named  Peter  Roy.  He  was  engaged  on 
my  uncle's  recommendation,  and  with  the  under- 
standing that  he  was  to  accompany  us  over  the 
prairie  to  our  future  home,  and  then,  if  both  par- 
ties desired  it,  a  contract  might  be  made  for  future 
services. 

My  uncle  vouched  for  Roy's  trustfulness,  and 
said  he  was  a  good  farmer  and  would  prove  a  val- 
uable man  for  us.  I  have  seldom  seen  so  strik- 
ing a  man  physically.  He  was  more  than  six  feet 
tall,  but  so  finely  proportioned  that  his  height  was 
not  noticeable  except  by. contrast.  His  face  ex- 
pressed good  nature,  while  his  massive  under  jaw 
and  the  carriage  of  his  head  indicated  courage  and 
firmness.  His  eyes  were  steel-blue  or  gray,  show- 
ing his  Scotch  parentage  on  one  side,  while  his 
hair  was  straight  and  black,  and  a  certain  freedom 
and  stateliness  of  carriage  came  from  his  Indian 
mother.  He  was  about  twenty-five  years  old,  and 
previous  to  our  meeting  him  had  been  a  voyageur 
and  farmer.  He  was  reputed  to  be  as  strong  and 
as  courageous  as  a  lion.  I  formed  a  friendship 
with  him  at  once,  for  he  was  a  man  that  children 


THE  OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.     71 

and  dogfs  and  horses  trusted  and  liked  at  first 
sight. 

On  the  first  day  of  May  we  began  our  journey. 
During  that  day  we  passed  by  the  Falls  of  St. 
Anthony.  After  journeying  on  the  eastern  banks 
of  the  Mississippi  above  the  falls  for  three  miles, 
we  left  the  river  and  made  a  detour  over  a  diy 
and  beautiful  prairie  blooming  with  flowers.  The 
groves  were  enlivened  with  the  singing  of  birds. 
Tlie  air  was  pure,  the  sky  blue,  and  all  contributed 
to  make  our  first  day's  journey  a  pleasant  one. 
We  halted  to  cook  our  dinner,  and  prepared  to 
camp  for  the  night  near  a  farm. 

We  cooked  our  supper;  and  if  it  was  not  served 
in  very  elegant  style,  our  appetites  made  up  for 
that  deficiency  as  well  as  for  the  lack  of  delicacies. 

Matt  spent  much  time  at  both  noon  and  night 
in  washing  and  attending  to  his  mules,,  which  were 
already  beginning  to  prove  the  correctness  of  his 
judgment  in  buying  them. 

The  next  morning  we  resumed  our  journey,  our 
fine  gray  horses  drawing  the  large  wagon,  leading 
the  way  ;  next  came  the  mules  attached  to  the 
smaller  one  on  which  was  loaded  our  baggage ; 
Matt's  team  and  the  oxen  and  cows  brought  up 
the  rear.  We  passed  by  groves  of  scrubby  oaks 
and  over  undulating  prairie  land  for  the  first  eight 
miles  of  our  journey  that  day,  and  at  night  en- 
camped by  a  small  and  beautiful  lake. 

Our  dog  Gai'rison  was  a  jealous  guardian  of  our 


72  TOM  CLIFTON. 

teams,  although  when  encamped  we  took  turns 
in  guarding  the  camp.  Occasionally  on  our  route 
we  passed  farmhouses  and  sometimes  comfortable 
hotels  and  dwellings,  where,  had  we  so  desired, 
we  could  have  received  entertainment.  Althougfh 
my  father  was  unaccustomed  to  labor,  he  bore  the 
fatigue  of  the  journey  well,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
the  pure,  bracing  air  more  and  more  every  day. 
So  we  journeyed  on  with  little  variation,  taking 
care  not  to  over-drive  our  live-stock.  Matt  exhib- 
ited his  usual  solicitude  for  his,  and  would  have 
fallen  out  from  our  party,  I  believe,  rather  than 
neglect  the  animals  or  suffer  them  to  be  ill-fed  or 
uncared  for. 

Here  and  there  we  got  beautiful  glimpses  of  the 
Mississippi  and  of  the  huge  tamarack  groves  that 
grow  in  its  swampy  bottom-lands ;  in  one  place  we 
saw  bold  rocks  and  cliffs  that  reminded  us  of  our 
own  New  England.  But  little  occurred  to  mar  our 
enjoyment,  with  the  exception  of  the  last  few  days 
of  the  journey,  when  we  left  the  main  road  and 
travelled  on  the  prairie.  Here  we  sometimes  got 
mired  in  marshy  places.  Now  and  then  we  killed  a 
prairie  hen  or  other  small  game,  which  made  a  very 
acceptable  addition  to  our  stock  of  provisions. 
Hunger  in  our  party  seemed  so  chronic  that  Aunt 
Hitty  declared  we  should  have  to  go  back  for 
stores  before  we  arrived,  unless  we  ate  less.  She 
thought  she  had  never  slept  so  soundly  since  she 
could  remember.     My  father  was  seldom  heard  to 


THE   OUTLOOK  FOR   OUR  NEW  HOME.     73 

cougli,  and  that  fact  alone  seemed  worth  the 
trip. 

When  we  had  reached  a  point  on  the  military 
road,  not  far  from  a  Mississippi  steamboat  land- 
ing, to  our  great  suprise,  Aleck,  the  colored  man 
who  came  up  the  river  with  us  on  our  way  to  St. 
Paul,  joined  us.  My  father  explained  that  after 
waiting  a  few  days  uncle  John  had  sent  Aleck  up 
the  Mississippi  from  St.  Anthony.  They  thought 
that  by  this  method  Aleck  was  less  liable  to  be  ar- 
rested as  a  fugitive  slave.  For  had  he  been  seen  to 
leave  St.  Paul  with  our  party,  some  unprincipled 
person  might  have  suspected  the  truth,  and  given 
information  that  would  have  led  to  his  capture  and 
return  to  slavery. 

"  Golly,  'spects  dem  fellers  in  St.  Paul  tink  dis 
chile  trablin'  fur  his  health.  Reckon  dey  won't 
look  fur  Aleck  'way  up  hyer  on  dese  lans." 

Aleck  proved  to  be  very  handy  and  amusing, 
and  when  evening  came  he  entertained  us  all  with 
his  plantation  melodies.  "  Roll,  Jordan,  Roll,"  was 
a  favorite  with  us  which  he  could  not  repeat  too 
often. 


74  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A   NEW   HOME   IN   THE   AYILDERNESS. 

Bv  reference  to  mv  note-book  which,  at  the 
suggestion  of  mv  father,  I  kept  at  that  time,  I 
find  that  we  arrived  at  our  destination  about  four 
o'clock  on  an  afternoon  in  May,  1855.  During 
our  last  day's  journey  we  had  been  obliged  to  cross 
many  mai-shy  places  on  the  prairie,  where  our 
heavy  teams  had  mired,  and  where  the  difficulty 
of  extricating  our  wagons  greatly  delayed  and 
fatigued  us.  So  although  we  had  onl}'  travelled 
about  seven  miles  since  startinsf  at  davli^ht,  Ave 
did  not  arrive  at  our  destination  until  late  in  the 
afternoon. 

Notwitlistanding  our  wearied  condition,  excla- 
mations of  surprise  and  delight  burst  from  our  party 
when  our  wagons  were  halted  on  a  slight  eminence 
overlooking  two  small  but  beautiful  wood-fringed 
lakes.  One  lay  nearly-  in  front  of  us  and  the  other 
on  our  left,  separated  by  a  plateau  eight  or  nine 
hundred  yards  in  width. 

Back  of  us  stretched  an  undulating  prairie  as 
beautiful  as  ever  the  eye  rested  upon,  —  a  Avide 
expanse  of   natural   garden   plot,  with   here   and 


I 


A   NEW  HOME  IX   THE    WILDERNESS.     75 

there  groves  of  oak  resembling  at  a  distance  the 
orchards  of  the  far  away  land  we  had  left.  The 
first  impression  was  that  the  land  had  been  cleared 
by  some  former  dweller  who,  after  smoothing  it  as 
with  mighty  rollers  and  sowing  the  soil  with  grass 
and  flowers,  had,  with  his  home,  fences,  and  cattle, 
been  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  scene  was  indeed  enchanting ;  the  landscape 
was  sublime  in  its  extent  and  simplicity.  The  sky 
was  clear,  and  not  a  breath  disturbed  the  mirror- 
like lakes  before  us.  The  trees  that  skirted  them, 
and  a  densely  wooded  island  in  the  centre  of  the 
larger  lake,  were  reflected,  as  was  the  sky,  on  their 
tranquil  surface;  while  the  invigorating  air  and 
the  softened  light  of  declining  day  all  combined 
to  produce  that  exhilaration  which  the  appreci- 
ative mind  feels  when  coming  in  contact  with 
primitive  nature. 

We  at  once  began  preparations  for  our  evening 
meal ;  dry  wood  was  collected  for  a  fire,  water  as 
clear  as  crystal  brought  from  the  lake,  a  sod  fire- 
place built,  prairie  chicken  or  grouse,  which  had 
been  shot  that  afternoon,  were  soon  broiling,  fra- 
grant coffee  was  prepared,  and  the  cakes  were  fiy- 
ing  in  the  long-handled  frying-pan  we  used  for  that 
purpose.  Stakes  were  driven  into  the  ground  and 
our  two  lapboards  fixed  thereon  for  tables,  —  Aunt 
Hitty  producing  some  clean  towels  for  tablecloths. 

Seated  on  our  camp-stools  at  this  extemporized 
table,  my  father  invoked  the  blessing  of  God  upon 


76  TOM  CLIFTON. 

our  food ;  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  that  supper 
was  eaten  with  an  appetite  which  is  possessed  only 
by  those  who  exercise  and  labor  in  the  pure  open 
air.  That  scene  of  peace  and  rustic  beauty  so  im- 
pressed my  youthful  mind,  that  after  all  these  years 
of  adventure  and  hardship  I  recall  it  as  the  most 
beautiful  one  enshrined  in  my  memory. 

After  supper  we  made,  preparations  for  the  night, 
for  the  air  as  the  sun  went  down  became  somewhat 
chilly.  The  horses,  fastened  by  ropes  or  lariats, 
were  left  to  graze  on  the  buffalo  grass  just  spring- 
ing up,  fresh  and  green,  on  the  prairie.  Dry  grass 
was  cut  for  our  bedding,  over  this  our  rubber 
blankets  were  first  spread,  and  over  these  woollen 
ones. 

My  aunt  and  Mrs.  Ryan  preferred  to  sleep  another 
night  in  the  wagon,  not  willing  to  risk  being  de- 
voured by  snakes,  or  little  prairie  dogs,  a  colony 
of  the  latter  having  been  seen  on  our  journey. 

After  my  father  had  asked  the  blessing  of  God 
on  our  new  home,  we  went  to  our  rest.  No  sleep 
of  my  life,  except  one  after  a  long  march  in  the 
army,  ever  equalled  in  sweetness  and  dreamless 
repose  that  night  under  the  stars  on  the  prairies  of 
Minnesota. 

The  next  morning  we  were  up  before  the  sun ; 
and  after  a  breakfast  of  bacon  and  eggs,  we  began 
at  once  to  arrange  for  our  temporary  home. 

An  hour  or  more  was  spent  in  selecting  a  pleas- 
ant site  for  our  habitation,   where  housekeeping 


A   NEW  HOME  IN  THE    WILDERNESS.     11 

might  be  conducted  with  the  least  inconvenience 
to  the  housekeepers.  Matt  and  Peter  came  in  from 
a  prospecting  tour,  and  reported  that  they  had 
found  a  spring  of  water  on  the  hillside  near  us, 
facing  the  larger  lake.  After  long  consultation 
with  Aunt  Hitty,  we  decided  that  a  site  near  this 
spring  of  water  was  the  best  possible  for  our  pur- 
pose. The  water  was  clear  and  pure  and  cool,  and 
near  it  was  a  level  spot  overlooking  the  lake. 

It  seemed,  my  father  said,  as  if  the  surroundings 
were  providentially  arranged  for  a  home. 

The  trees  formed  ample  shade,  and  Aunt  Hitty 
said,  "  If  they  never  have  any  leaves  on  them 
they'll  do  to  fasten  clotheslines  to ; "  for  my  aunt 
was  practical,  and  accustomed  to  the  large  elm- 
trees  common  to  New  England,  and  looked  with 
much  contempt  upon  these  small  oaks.       .  . 

In  front  of  the  plateau  was  a  gradually  descend- 
ing slope,  covered  with  short  buffalo  grass,  resem- 
bling a  cultivated  lawn. 

We  now  began  to  unroll  and  examine  the  canvas 
we  had  bought  at  Fort  Snelling.  Among  this 
material  we  found  a  large  square  known  as  a  tent- 
fly,  which  after  being  patched  proved  very  service- 
able. We  also  found  three  wall-tents  in  very  good 
condition,  wdth  some  pieces  of  old  A  tents.  One  of 
the  wall-tents  was  but  little  worn ;  and  Mrs.  Ryan 
thought  if  she  had  a  sewing-palm,  such  as  sail- 
makers  and  sailors  use,  she  could  make  it  as  good 
as  new  by  a  little  sewing. 


78  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Later  in  the  day,  while  looking  over  the  tool- 
chest  which  we  had  brought  from  home,  among 
some  odds  and  ends  such  as  are  preserved  by  every 
well-regulated  Yankee  family,  we  found  a  sewing- 
palm,  and  a  ball  of  sail-thread,  which  had  belonged 
to  Aunt  Hitty's  husband. 

We  now  began  to  cut  the  grass  and  level  the 
ground  for  our  tents ;  while  Aleck  and  Peter  cut 
straight  trees  for  ridge-poles,  though  it  cost  a  good 
deal  of  time  to  find  such  as  were  suitable  for  the 
purpose.  After  driving  two  poles  of  the  height  of 
the  peaks  of  the  tents  perpendicularly  into  the 
ground,  we  nailed  the  ridge-poles  solidly  to  their 
tops.  Then  setting  posts  at  the  corners  of  the 
tents,  we  nailed  to  these  other  poles,  laid  hori- 
zontally, but  level  with  the  eaves  of  the  roof. 

The  tents  were  pitched  with  their  entrances 
facing  each  other,  and  with  their  sides  parallel  to 
the  lake.  Matt  and  I  both  protested  against  this, 
as  we  thought  it  would  be  pleasanter  to  look  out 
on  the  lake. 

"  You  will  be  much  better  pleased  with  my  plan 
when  you  see  what  is  intended,"  said  my  father  in 
reply  to  our  expostulations.  And  so  we  were  ;  for 
after  the  tents  were  securely  staked  to  the  ground, 
he  directed  Aleck  to  nail  another  long  pole  to 
connect  the  ridge-pole  of  the  tents.  We  at  first 
thought  this  was  a  brace  to  make  each  tent  more 
secure  ;  but  the  reader  can  imagine  our  satisfaction 
when  the  tent-fly  was  thrown  over  this  ridge-pole, 


A    NEW  HOME  IN   THE    WILDERNESS.     79 

thus  connecting  the  two  tents,  and  securely  fas- 
tened by  ropes  whicli  ran  from  the  eyelet  holes,  in 
the  edge  of  the  canvas  fly,  to  the  ground. 

"  This,"  said  my  father,  "  can  be  used  for  a  sit- 
ting-room and  a  dining-room." 

This  work  had  taken  up  most  of  the  forenoon ; 
but  in  the  mean  time  Aunt  Hitty  had  prepared 
dinner,  which  was  eaten  at  our  former  camping- 
place. 

We  now  set  to  work  to  construct  a  house  where 
cooking  might  be  done  with  comfort  during  cold 
and  lainy  weather.  On  the  right,  and  very  near 
our  tents,  another  fly  was  pitched  for  temporary 
use  until  something  more  suitable  could  be  con- 
trived. 

In  each  tent  we  drove  nails  in  the  eaves-poles 
on  which  to  hang  our  clothing,  and  Aleck  put  up 
in  both  tents  some  shelves  on  which  lamps  and 
other  small  household  conveniences  might  stand. 
The  choicest  of  my  father's  books  had  been  brought, 
packed  in  two  shallow  boxes  which  were  placed  in 
one  trunk.  When  these  boxes  were  unpacked,  and 
were  placed  one  on  the  other,  they  formed  a  very 
convenient  bookcase,  with  three  slielves  in  each, 
making  the  whole  about  five  and  a  half  feet 
high. 

This  bookcase  was  placed  at  the  end  of  one  of 
the  tents,  and  on  the  top  was  placed  a  clock,  while 
to  the  sides  were  secured  several  hooks  for  hats 
and  coats.     Of  the  covers  of  the  boxes  a  table  was 


80  TOM  CLIFTON. 

made,  which  was  placed  under  our  tent  veranda, 
or  fly. 

Two  stakes  were  driven  into  the  ground  five  feet 
apart,  but  crossing  each  other  like  a  letter  X.  The 
tops  of  these  stakes  were  sawed  off  very  evenly; 
and  the  boards  were  fastened  together  with  cleats 
and  screws,  and  fastened  down  to  the  legs.  When 
this  table  was  covered  with  a  white  cloth  and 
nicely  set  with  dishes,  it  looked  very  inviting  and 
homelike. 

The  next  morning  we  began  the  kitchen,  digging 
into  the  hillside,  just  below  the  spring,  a  square 
place  about  five  feet  deep  at  the  farthest  end,  with 
sides  gradually  decreasing  in  height  until  that 
toward  the  lake  was  level  with  the  ground.  We 
then  cut  sod  and  built  up  the  sides  until  the  whole 
formed  a  compact  wall,  rendered  very  strong  by 
breaking  joints  with  the  sod  as  is  done  with  bricks 
in  masonry. 

This,  when  trimmed  off  on  the  inside,  was  as 
smooth  as  an  ordinary  plastered  wall.  We  then 
set  up,  at  the  ends  of  this  structure,  two  posts  on 
which  a  ridge-pole  was  securely  fastened.  Over 
this  a  piece  of  canvas  was  drawn  for  a  roof. 

As  a  substitute  for  a  stove  we  built  of  stone, 
which  we  picked  up  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  a 
square,  box-like  arrangement,  open  in  front,  and 
cemented  together  by  a  white  clay  procured  by 
Peter  Roy.  Over  this  we  placed  a  sheet-iron  top 
with  holes  for  pots  and  kettles,  which,  at  the  sug- 


A   NEW  HOME  IN  THE    WILDERNESS.     81 

gestion  of  my  Uncle  John,  had  been  made  for  us 
before  we  left  St.  Paul.  To  this  the  stove-pipe  was 
fixed,  and  run  up  through  the  roof  of  the  tent. 
This  was  held  in  place  by  two  perpendicular  poles 
set  in  the  ground  on  each  side,  and  running  to  the 
peak  of  the  tent,  to  which  the  pipe  was  securely 
fastened  by  wires.  When  a  fire  was  kindled,  it 
was  found,  except  for  baking  purposes,  to  be  a  very 
good  stove.  Around  the  walls  of  the  kitchen  Aleck 
built  shelves  and  a  large  cupboard  with  boards 
from  the  boxes  we  had  brought.  When  all  was 
finished.  Aunt  Hitty  acknowledged  that  it  was  a 
very  comfortable  and  convenient  kitchen. 

My  father  had  been  steadily  improving  in  health 
since  our  arrival  in  Minnesota.  Though  his  strength 
was  not  great,  he  thought  he  had  been  benefited 
by  the  work  he  had  done  ;  and  he  enjoyed,  as  he  had 
not  for  years,  the  blessings  of  sound  sleep  and  a 
good  appetite.  The  dry  air  was  very  invigorating 
to  us  all,  and  even  Aunt  Hitty  enthusiastically 
declared  that  "  it  was  making  a  new  woman  of 
her." 

My  father.  Matt,  and  I  occupied  one  of  the  tents 
for  sleeping.  Aunt  Hitty  and  Mrs.  Ryan  the  other, 
while  an  A  tent  was  put  up  for  Peter  Roy  and 
Aleck.  When  carpets  and  rugs  had  been  spread 
on  the  floor  of  the  tents,  and  a  centre-table  built 
for  the  evening  lamp,  the  comfort  of  our  dwelling 
seemed  complete. 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  no  work  was  done. 


82  TOM  CLIFTON. 

After  morning  prayer  we  rambled  around  the 
shores  of  the  lake  on  a  voyage  of  discovery.  We 
found  the  lakes  connected  by  a  deep  but  sluggish 
stream. 

This  stream,  with  the  lakes,  formed  a  tongue  or 
peninsula  of  land,  very  level  and  apparently  with 
very  rich  soil.  At  one  point  in  this  peninsula  a 
bend  in  the  smaller  lake  formed  a  narrow  neck,  not 
over  two  hundred  yards  wide,  across  which  it  was 
determined  to  build  a  fence  and  thus  enclose  about 
sixty  acres  of  pasturage  for  our  stock.  During  the 
next  week  this  work  was  done  and  our  cattle  enclosed 
in  an  area  from  which  they  could  not  stray  or  be 
stolen  and  where  they  could  have  plenty  of  room 
and  water.  Their  safety  was  further  insured  by 
the  nearness  of  our  habitation. 

The  situation  of  our  farm  was  considered  an  ex- 
tremely good  one.  We  were  but  a  few  miles  from 
the  military  road,  which  extends  from  St.  Anthony 
to  Fort  Ripley,  the  latter  not  many  miles  above  us ; 
we  were  also  near  settlements  on  the  Mississippi 
River. 

Roads  were  easily  made  on  the  prairie  which 
needed  neither  efradingf  nor  artificial  material  to 
make  them  hard  and  dry. 

Peter  Roy  thought  there  was  a  stream  of  water 
connecting  our  lakes  with  the  Mississippi.  This 
if  true  would  enable  us  to  convey  grain  and  other 
produce  of  our  farm  by  means  of  a  bateau  or  boat 
to  the  towns  on  the  Mississippi. 


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A   NEW  HOME  IN   THE    WILDERNESS.     83 

My  father  thought  he  might  also  find  a  market 
at  Fort  Ripley. 

As  may  he  imagined,  Matt  and  I  were  very 
curious  to  know  the  details  of  Aleck's  story ;  and 
one  evening  he  told  us  his  history,  which,  however, 
my  father  already  knew. 

He  had  been  "raised,"  as  he  called  it,  at  Char- 
lotte, North  Carolina.  His  master,  who  had  always 
been  very  kind  to  him,  had  when  he  was  seventeen 
years  old  put  him  at  work  with  a  carpenter,  whose 
trade  he  had  quickly  learned. 

"  Who  was  your  master  ?  "  I  inquired  curiously. 

"  Massa  George  Spring  war  my  massa's  name. 
Young  Massa  George  war  mighty  fon'  o"  me ;  we 
war  raised  togeder." 

"  Was  he  kind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Bless  yer,  honey !  we  used  ter  tote  aroun' 
togeder  when  we  could  des  toddle.  Massa  George 
might}^  fon'  o'  me,  but  his  twin  brer',  Leroy,  war 
mighty  ugly  like,  an'  hate  me  wus'  'en  pisen  kase 
I  des  hurt  'im  one  day.     He  sly  like." 

He  told  us  that  when  he  was  nineteen  years  old 
he  had  been  allowed  to  marry  a  young  girl  owned 
on  a  neighboring  plantation,  and  had  had  one  child, 
a  little  girl.  His  young  master  was  taken  sick,  and 
went  to  New  Orleans  in  1849  for  his  health.  At 
this  removal  Aleck  became  the  property  of  Leroy 
Spring,  who  was  the  "  black  sheep  "  of  the  Spring 
family.  This  man  was  morose,  had  an  ugly  temper, 
and  by  Aleck's  account  was  more  of  a  gambler  than 


84  TOM  CLIFTON. 

a  planter.  He  was  soon  in  want  of  money,  and 
notwithstanding  his  promise  not  to  sell  Aleck, 
sold  him  for  seven  hundred  dollars  to  a  negro 
trader  named  Myer  Myers. 

"  An'  dat  war  dog  cheap  fur  a  carpenter,  I  reckon. 
Wall,  dat  ol'  Massa  Myers,  he  war  a  Jew  I  reckon. 
He  tuck  away  all  my  good  clo's.  My  misses.  Young 
Massa  George's  wife,  she  war  mighty  fon'  o'  me,  and 
larned  me  to  read  and  write.  Dat  Jew,  Massa 
Myers,  he  tuck  me  to  Charleston  an'  put  me  in  an' 
ol'  wuck  house  wid  a  lot  o'  common  trash.  Sea 
Island  niggers,  an'  sol'  us  all  as  a  prim'  lot  o'  cotton 
an'  rice  hans'.  Dar  war  a  lot  o'  little  chillun  with 
us.  De  auctioneer  sa'd  my  name  war  "  Jack,"  but 
I  brought  one  thousand,  one  hundred  dollas,  clean 
cash !  So  fo'  de  Lawd,  dat  ole'  Myers  made  fo' 
hundred  dollas  out  o'  me." 

After  this  Aleck  had  hard  fare  and  hard  work. 
Unaccustomed  to  these,  and  taken  from  his  wife 
and  child,  Aleck  grew  discontented,  and  as  he 
expressed  it,  "powerful  out  o'  sorts."  He  was 
whippet!,  and  this  treatment  made  him  discon- 
tented and  disobedient.  He  ran  away,  but  was 
cflught  and  again  sold,  this  time  in  the  New 
Orleans  market.  There  he  worked  for  a  while  on 
a  sugar  plantation,  and  was  next  hired  out  to  a  man 
in  St.  Louis  where  he  had  been  so  harshly  treated 
that  he  again  ran  away,  and  by  the  help  of  the 
colored  waiters  was  secreted  on  board  a  freight 
boat  bound  up  the  Mississippi.     Fearing  that  the 


A   NEW  HOME  IN  THE    WILDERNESS.     85 

boat  Y/ould  be  searched,  be  had  left  it  below  Galena, 
and,  travelling  on  foot  and  by  night,  he  had  reached 
that  place.  Here  he  remained  secreted  until  in- 
formed by  some  colored  people  that  a  New  Eng- 
land man  and  his  family  had  just  arrived,  on  their 
way  to  St.  Paul  by  boat. 

After  looking  at  '^  de  ol'  Massa,"  as  Aleck  called 
my  father,  he  concluded  it  would  be  safe  to  ask  his 
help. 

Here  let  me  say  in  parenthesis,  that  afterwards, 
during  the  war,  I  had  occasion  to  observe  with 
astonishment  that  the  Southern  black  people  are 
acute  physiognomists,  and  I  have  seldom  known 
one  of  them  to  make  a  mistake  in  selecting  persons 
likely  to  help  and  befriend  him. 

Aleck  had  watched  my  father  until  he  found 
him  alone,  and  then  had  told  him  enough  of  his 
story  to  secure  his  sympathy. 

The  result  was  that  he  assisted  Aleck  as  we  have 
seen  in  preceding  chapters.  During  the  search  at 
Dubuque,  one  of  the  colored  waiters  had  secreted 
him  in  a  barrel  which  Aleck  declared  to  be  a 
"  mighty  tight  place  fur  a  colored  pusson." 

The  next  day  we  resumed  our  work  on  the  farm, 
having  more  friendly  sympathy  with  Aleck  than 
before. 


86  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PREPARING   THE   FARM. 

After  the  domestic  preparations  mentioned  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  we  at  once  began  breaking 
land  for  seedinsf.  There  were  about  a  hundred 
acres  between  tlie  two  lakes,  part  of  which  was 
used  for  pasturage  ;  the  remainder  we  determined 
to  plough.  It  was  impossible  to  raise  wheat  or 
oats  the  first  year ;  since  those  grains  are  sown  as 
early  in  the  spring  as  the  frost  will  permit  the 
ground  to  be  worked,  and  a  wheat  crop  on  the  sod 
is  generally  not  worth  harvesting. 

Peter  was  a  good  ploughman,  and  using  the  three 
ploughs  under  his  instructions  we  began  breaking 
the  virgin  sod.  Peter  was  as  strong  as  a  giant,  and, 
like  most  athletic  large  men,  proved  as  good-natured 
as  he  was  powerful.  His  chief  fault  as  a  farmer 
was  that  he  sometimes  dropped  work  without 
notice,  to  pursue  any  game  that  came  in  his  way. 

Aleck,  as  I  have  said,  was  bred  a  carpenter,  and 
proved  very  handy  with  tools.  He  and  Peter  soon 
became  fast  friends ;  the  latter  assuming  the 
part  of  patron  and  protector,  and  the  other  a 
follower  and   pupil   in  all  that  concerned  prairie 


PREPARING  THE  FARM.  87 

life.  Both  were  good  men,  but  they  were  very 
unlike.  Aleck  was  merry  and  talkative.  He 
could  read  and  write,  and  had  a  good  general 
knowledge  of  farming,  but  had  seasons  of  indo- 
lence when  he  could  not  sleep  nor  eat  enough. 

Peter  never  seemed  to  sleep  except  with  one  eye 
open :  a  word  or  movement  would  awaken  him. 
His  senses  were  trained  to  quick  perception ;  and 
though  he  could  not  read  a  printed  page,  he  read 
the  great  book  of  nature,  whose  pages  were  often 
unintelligible  to  our  untrained  senses,  with  almost 
infallible  insight.  Trampled  grass  or  wheat,  or 
a  broken  twig,  revealed  to  him  what  game  had 
passed  over  the  ground. 

He  had  been  for  several  years  what  is  known 
as  a  voyageur ;  and  among  his  duties  was  the  trans, 
portation  of  baggage  or  provisions  or  canoes,  over 
portages,  from  one  stream  or  lake  to  another.  He 
showed  me  the  strap  and  collar  he  had  used  for 
that  purpose.  The  strap  was  made  to  pass  around 
the  forehead,  and  was  when  used  attached  to  each 
end  of  the  burden  carried.  We  examined  this  har- 
ness very  curiously  ;  and  in  response  to  some  ques- 
tion, Peter  said,  "  I  carry  barrel  o'  flour  twelve 
miles  once."  That  immense  burdens  were  carried 
by  these  voyageurs  in  this  manner  is  among  the 
traditions  of  Minnesota.  That  Peter  did  not  over- 
rate his  own  strength  and  endurance  was  constantly 
proved  to  us.  He  had  qualities  inherited  from  his 
Scotch  father,  as  well  as  from  his  Inchan  mother, 


88  '    TOM  CLIFTON. 

and  followed  the  customs  of  each  quite  impar- 
tially. 

Under  Peter's  instructions  Matt  and  I  both 
learned  to  use  the  breaking  plough. 

Matt  was  justly  proud  of  his  mules ;  in  a  few 
weeks  they  had  entirely  recovered  from  their 
wretched  condition  and  had  become  the  best  team 
on  the  farm.  Like  all  mules,  they  had  seasons  of 
incomprehensible  contrariness ;  at  such  times  they 
would  kick  so  viciously  that  Matt  declared  they 
would  have  made  holes  in  the  sky,  if  there  had 
been  substance  enough  to  show  where  the  hole  was. 

My  father's  health  and  strength  were  renewed 
to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  although  he  was 
not  naturally  a  strong  man  he  followed  the  break- 
ing plough  for  hours  together. 

We  planted  five  acres  of  potatoes  and  ten  of 
Indian  corn,  prepared  and  stocked  with  great  care 
a  kitchen  garden,  and  devoted  another  acre  to 
turnips  and  carrots.  After  this  planting,  we  still 
continued  ploughing  until  nearly  fifty  acres  were 
turned  up  to  the  sweetening,  disintegrating  influ- 
ences of  frost  and  sun. 

As  an  experiment,  and  against  Peter's  protest, 
we  harrowed  and  sowed  two  acres  with  wheat  and 
oats  ;  but  on  account  of  late  sowing  and  tough  sod, 
the  crop  was  worth  little  except  to  feed  while  green 
to  the  cattle.  Yet  we  comforted  ourselves  with  the 
belief  that  this  land  would  yield  better  another 
year. 


PREPARING   THE  FARM.  89 

Occasionally  Matt  and  I  would  spend  a  half  a 
day  in  fishing  or  shooting. 

Shortly  after  our  arrival,  one  day  towards  even- 
ing, we  thought  we  heard  the  "  lionk "  of  wild 
geese.  "  That  sounds  like  wild  geese  !  "  said  my 
father. 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter,  "  goose  go  North ;  like  as 
not  light  in  lake  for  night,  —  get  wild  rice." 

Creeping  with  Peter  around  the  edge  of  the  lake, 
we  discovered  the  geese,  noisily  congratulating 
themselves  on  having  such  fine  quarters  for  the 
night.  We  followed  Peter  on  hands  and  knees  to 
a  clump  of  wild  rice,  and  at  his  signal  blazed  away 
into  the  gabbling  flock.  With  a  tremendous  flut- 
tering the  surprised  birds  rose  and  wheeled  in  the 
air,  leaving  several  we  had  shot  in  the  lake. 

We  had  left  the  dog  Garrison  tied  lest  he  should 
frighten  away  our  game.  I  now  ran  to  our  tent 
and  brought  him  to  see  if  he  could  get  the  geese 
for  us ;  but  as  he  did'nt  understand  what  was 
required  of  him,  Peter  finally  stripped  and  swam 
out  to  secure  the  birds.  Garry  followed  him  into 
the  water,  and  seeing  what  was  wanted,  with 
wonderful  sagacity,  began  bringing  the  geese  to 
the  shore  ;  from  that  day  he  seemed  to  understand 
when  we  wished  him  to  retrieve  anything  from 
the  water. 

Peter,  pleased  at  Garry's  sagacity,  patted  him 
on  the  head  saying  '•'  Good  dog  understand." 

The  next  day  we  had  a  feast  of  wild  goose, 


90  TOM  CLIFTON. 

A  few  days  after,  as  Matt  and  I  were  lying  in  the 
grass,  we  heard  the  bugle-like  note  of  sand-cranes. 
The  birds  wheeled  as  if  to  survey  the  ground,  and 
then  settled  among  the  wild  rice.  On  a  slight  move- 
ment by  one  of  us,  the  whole  flock  was  in  the  air 
again.  We  fired,  and  more  by  accident  than  good 
aim  brought  down  one  which  lay  as  if  dead.  When 
Matt  and  I  advanced  toward  him  he  jumped  up, 
showing  fight,  and  making  an  ugly  hissing  sound. 
As  Matt  seized  the  long-legged  fellow,  he  pecked 
straight  into  his  face  and  eyes,  and  had  the  audacity 
to  follow  up  Matt's  hasty  retreat ;  by  this  time  I 
was  able  to  reach  his  flank  and  level  him  with  my 
ramrod. 

We  carried  the  steel-blue  bird  home  ;  and  when 
I  laughingly  told  Peter  about  the  adventure,  he 
told  us  gravely  that  wounded  cranes  were  danger- 
ous with  their  sharp  beaks,  as  they  always  strike 
at  the  eye.  He  had  known  a  hunter  who  had  his 
eyes  destroyed  by  them. 

Perhaps  the  spice  of  danger  made  the  broiled 
breast  of  this  bird  particularly  delicious. 

Hardly  a  day  now  passed  but  that  the  monot- 
ony of  our  hard  work  was  broken  by  some  adventure 
which,  besides  the  sport,  brought  some  delicious 
variety  of  food  to  our  table ;  and  what  appetites 
the  hard  work  and  the  dry,  pure  air  gave  us  ! 

The  lakes  were  literally  swarming  with  trout, 
pickerel,  and  other  varieties  of  fish. 

As  it  became  warmer  we  bathed  almost  every 


PREPARING   THE  FARM.  91 

evening  after  our  work  was  done,  and  afterwards 
looked  (as  boys  will  look  at  anything  unattain- 
able) at  the  wooded  island  which  lay  midway  in 
the  larger  lake.  Once,  when  after  our  bath  we 
had  expressed  our  desires,  my  father  said  humor- 
ously, " '  The  unattainable  with  boys  is  the  desir- 
able.' Sometime  wlien  I  am  at  the  settlement  I 
must  bring  up  the  material  for  building  a  boat." 

At  last  planting  was  over,  and  we  had  a  little 
time,  as  Aleck  said,  "to  sit  around  and  see  the 
craps  grow.  Golly,  nebber  did  see  any  sich  craps 
as  dis  yere ;  dey  hurry  up  mighty-like  as  if  dey 
'fraid  dey  won't  git  time  to  grow ; "  and  it  was 
truly  wonderful  how  vigorous  and  thrifty  every- 
thing we  planted  seemed  to  be. 

In  the  climate  of  Minnesota,  a  crop  grows  and 
matures  with  wonderful  quickness,  as  if  to  make 
up  for  the  shortness  of  the  season. 

Matt  and  I  became  so  impatient  to  visit  the 
island  that  at  last  we  swam  over  to  it,  which  so 
alarmed  my  father  that  he  promised  us  if  we 
would  not  venture  again,  that  during  the  week  he 
would  bring  up  from  the  settlement  the  material 
for  building  a  boat.  So  one  day  on  the  return  of 
the  team  from  the  river  town,  we  found  it  loaded 
with  doors,  windows,  a  quantity  of  matched  lum- 
ber, and  other  building  material. 

"  What  are  the  sash  and  doors  for  ?  "  I  inquired 
of  Peter. 

"  Build  house,"  replied  Peter, 


92  TOM  CLIFTON. 

I  was  still  perplexed  between  the  disproportion 
of  the  doors  and  windows  to  the  other  building 
material.  While  piling  up  the  scantling  and  the 
other  lumber  Aleck  expressed  the  same  perplexity 
that  had  troubled  me,  by  saying,  "  Mighty  queer 
house  !  all  do's  and  winders  !  Ho  I  I  reckon  we'll 
tote  some  logs  from  dat  island  an'  build  log  house." 

My  attention  was,  however,  drawn  to  two  long 
thin  boards  eighteen  feet  in  length  and  two  feet 
wide. 

"  What  are  those  for  ?  "  I  asked. 

Peter  with  his  usual  economy  of  words  replied, 
"  Boat." 

When  I  wondered  how  a  boat  was  to  be  built 
with  those  boards  he  said,  "  See  big  boat  by 
and  by." 

One  day,  after  a  hard  morning's  work  running 
the  cultivator  among  our  corn  and  potatoes,  my 
father  directed  Peter  to  unhitch  the  horses,  which 
he  hurriedly  did,  saying,  "  Build  boat." 

So  Aleck  began  to  sharpen  the  plane  and  chisel, 
and  under  my  father's  direction  sawed  out  a  piece 
of  oak  plank  about  three  feet  long  into  a  triangu- 
lar form  and  smoothed  it  with  a  plane,  and  then 
got  out  a  piece  o|  board  for  the  stem-piece  of  the 
boat.  Next  a  form  was  made  to  preserve  the  shape 
of  the  boat.  Aleck  planed  down  one  end  of  each  of 
the  long  boards  I  have  mentioned,  so  that  they  were 
almost  bevelled  to  a  point.  Peter  held  the  end  not 
bevelled  as  high  as  required,  while  it  was  nailed 


PREPARING    THE   FARM.  93 

with  wroughtriron  nails  firmly  to  the  triangular 
upright  already  prepared  for  a  bow-piece.  When 
this  was  done  the  other  side  was  secured  in  a 
corresponding  manner,  bringing  the  two  pieces  of 
board  to  a  sharp  point  for  the  bows.  The  portion 
of  the  boat  known  as  the  "  gunwale  "  was  resting 
on  the  ground,  the  bottom  of  the  boat  being  up. 
While  the  boards  were  in  this  position  the  stern- 
piece  was  carefully  adjusted,  the  form  made  to 
preserve  the  boat's  shape  was  placed  in  the  centre, 
and  the  long  thin  side-boards  were  temporarily 
tacked  to  it.  Then  the  ends  of  the  boards  at  the 
stern  were  nailed  to  the  stern-piece.  After  these 
were  properly  fastened  the  boards  were  sawed  to 
an  angle  towards  the  stern-piece.  Quarter-inch 
boards  were  then  nailed  across  for  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  At  every  joint  was  placed  a  layer  of 
cotton  as  thin  as  a  wafer,  to  prevent  leaking  when 
it  was  placed  in  the  water. 

This  work  occupied  several  days,  for  we  only 
worked  a  part  of  each  day.  When  the  work 
began  to  assume  the  shape  and  proportions  of  a 
boat,  of  the  kind  known  on  the  seacoast  as  a 
sharpie,  but  which  Peter  called  a  bateau,  we  were 
greatly  delighted. 

Sometime  before  this  Aleck  had  sawed  some 
crooked  oak  knees  to  strengthen  the  boat  inside. 
At  last  the  hull  of  the  boat  was  completed,  thole- 
pins for  rowing  were  fitted,  and  then  Matt  and  I 
were  allowed  to  do  the  fascinating  work  of  melt- 


94  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ing  pitch  and  running  it  into  her  seams,  and  of 
painting  her.  We  selected  for  her  name  "  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake  ; "  but  when  we  had  finished  the 
first  two  words  we  found  we  had  used  all  the 
space  on  her  stern,  so  that  her  name  would  be 
"  The  Lady."  Later  we  concluded  to  dispense 
with  the  last  letter,  and  so  finally  she  was  named 
"  The  Lad."  All  this  gave  to  Matt  and  me  an 
inexpressible  pleasure,  known  only  to  boys. 

My  aunt  diminished  my  pleasure  somewhat, 
because  of  the  paint  which  she  found  on  my 
trousers,  especially  on  one  part,  which,  that  I 
might  the  better  contemplate  our  artistic  effects, 
I  had  deposited  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  before 
the  treacherous  paint  was  sufficiently  dry  for  such 
an  experiment.  On  attempting  to  rise  I  could  not 
be  separated  from  the  object  of  my  loving  admira- 
tion without  leaving  my  trousers  as  a  sort  of 
tribute  of  my  regards. 

I  believe  that  to  this  day  I  have  never  seen  any 
paint  or  pitch  stick  so  obstinately  as  did  that 
paint. 

I  never  knew  Peter  to  laugh  before ;  but  even 
he  laughed  when  Matt  shouted,  "  An'  sure,  we'll 
have  to  launch  him  with  the  boat !  " 

Our  craft  was  at  last  put  into  the  water,  and 
proved  serviceable  there.  She  was  sixteen  feet 
long,  had  three  seats,  could  easily  carry  five 
people,  and  in  case  of  need  twice  that  number. 

The  first  use  made  of  the  boat  was  to  explore 


PREPARING   THE  FARM.  95 

the  island.  We  found  it  to  contain  at  least  fifty 
acres,  finely  wooded  with  pine  and  sugar-maple. 

My  father  had  made  arrangements  to  secure 
this  island  as  a  needful  adjunct  to  our  farm. 

On  farther  exploration  it  was  proved  that  the 
lakes  had  an  outlet  into  the  Mississippi  liiver, 
which  gave  us  great  satisfaction,  as  we  could 
easily  thereby  reach  the  towns  on  the  Mississippi. 
We  could  even  go  to  St.  Anthony  in  our  boat,  but 
how  to  return  was  another  matter. 

It  was  decided  that  during  the  fall  and  winter 
we  would  cut  down  some  of  the  pines,  use  the 
branches  and  tops  for  firewood,  and  float  the  logs 
in  the  spring  to  one  of  the  sawmills  on  the 
Mississippi,  to  be  sawed  for  house  material  at 
some  future  time. 

This  timber  proved  a  mine  of  wealth  to  us, 
although,  as  will  be  seen,  we  made  no  immediate 
use  of  it. 

Although  Aunt  Hitty  never  went  to  rest  at 
night  without  looking  under  her  bed  for  Indians, 
we  had  up  to  this  time  seen  none  except  a  few 
who  passed  between  Fort  Ripley  and  St.  Paul  on 
the  military  road. 

One  afternoon  we  heard  a  frightful  screaming 
at  our  tents,  and  hurrying  there  found  Aunt  Hitty, 
with  her  apron  over  her  head,  and  Mrs.  Ryan 
crouching  in  a  corner.  They  were  frightened 
nearly  out  of  their  wits  by  a  party  of  Indians 
that  had  ridden  down  to  the  lake  and  thrown  off 


96  TOM  CLIFTON. 

their  blankets,  leaving  notliing  on  but  their 
breech-cloths  and  calico  shirts.  As  we  hurried  up 
a  squaw  mounted  astride  of  a  pony,  with  a  child 
on  her  back,  rushed  by  us,  pounding  the  horse 
unmercifully  to  increase  its  speed.  The  party  at 
the  lake,  horses  and  all,  took  a  good  bath. 

Peter  had  meanwhile  come  up  and  had  reassured 
us  by  saying  "  Good  Injuns  !  " 

Thus  reassured  Matt  and  I  returned  our  rifles 
to  their  places,  for  in  anticipation  of  trouble  at  so 
unusual  a  visit  we  had  hastily  seized  them. 

After  they  had  had  all  the  water  they  cared  for, 
they  came  up  to  our  tents,  and,  as  Aunt  Hitty 
expressed  it,  began  to  "  jabber."  The  only  Eng- 
lish word  we  could  understand  was  "  rum."  Peter 
in  reply  said  sternly,  with  an  inclination  of  his 
head  towards  my  father,  "  No  rum,  good  man," 
and  then  said  a  few  words  to  them  in  their 
own  language. 

The  squaw  had  dismounted,  with  the  child  (a 
little  girl  about  eight  years  old),  near  our  tent. 

My  aunt  went  to  them,  and  taking  up  the  little 
girl  in  her  arms  tried  to  talk  to  her,  but  the  child 
preserved  an  immovable  face.  Aunt  Hitty  could 
not  make  her  look  at  her,  change  her  position,  or 
move  a  muscle. 

"  I  really  believe,"  said  my  aunt,  "  that  the 
little  thing  is  afraid." 

Aunt  Hitty  then  went  to  the  tent  and  returned 
with  some  red  and  blue  ribbons,  one  of  which  she 


PREPARING   THE  FARM.  97 

tied  around  the  neck  of  the  child,  another  around 
her  waist,  and,  with  the  third  tied  up  her  glossy 
black  hair.  All  this  was  a  by-play  while  we  were 
engaged  with  the  Indians.  I  have  since  learned 
that  Indian  maidens  are  the  most  timid  of  all 
girls.  The  little  girl  made  a  very  pretty  picture, 
standing  like  a  statue  in  her  bright  decorations. 

Finally,  at  a  sharp  word  of  command  from  their 
leader,  they  all  mounted,  and  as  they  rode  away 
amid  the  flutter  of  red  blankets  and  clatter  of 
steeds  I  saw  the  little  girl  glancing  over  her 
shoulder  as  if  for  a  parting  look. 

After  they  were  gone  I  asked  Aunt  Hitty  what 
she  thought  of  the  Indians. 

"  Poor  folksy !  "  she  said,  an  expression  she 
often  applied  to  those  low  in  social  culture. 

Mrs.  Ryan,  with  the  repulsion  often  seen  among 
the  poor  people  of  one  race  for  those  of  another, 
declared  them  "  murthering  thaves,"  and.  said  she, 
"  It's  the  likes  of  them  as  makes  poor  lone  women 
afraid  to  stay  alone." 

Matt  took  great  offence  at  what  he  considered 
their  lack  of  manners,  and  shook  his  fist  at  the 
retreating  Indians,  saying  "•  lo'll  bust  yer  oie,  fur  ye, 
if  yer  comes  blatherin'  around  here  agin ; "  and 
then  turning  to  me  he  said,  "  Sure  they  should  have 
taken  off  their  hats  to  yer  father." 

"  But,  Matt,"  I  expostulated,  "they  didn't  have 
any  hats." 

"  Sure,  then,  they  should  have  lifted  their  hair 


98  TOM  CLIFTON. 

to  him,"  cried  the  angry  Matt,  at  which  Peter 
took  hold  of  Matt's  scalp-lock  and  said  grimly, 
"  Lift  your  hair,  boy." 

Meanwhile  the  crops  were  in  fine  condition ;  and 
during  the  growing  season,  when  not  engaged  with 
the  cultivator  or  in  hoeing  in  the  garden  (the  last 
of  which  had  greatly  absorbed  Aleck's  attention), 
it  was  thought  best  to  begin  building  a  house 
more  suitable  for  winter. 


THE  SOD  HOUSE.  99 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   SOD    HOUSE. 

The  great  charm  of  life  in  a  new  country  con- 
sists partly  in  the  fact  that  the  settler  must  create 
his  comforts  from  the  rough  stores  of  nature. 

It  seems  a  rule  in  human  experience  that  we 
should  love  best  that  which  causes  us  the  most 
care  and  trouble  in  getting  and  preserving ;  that 
which  we  easily  gain,  we  as  easily  throw  aside. 

The  dweller  in  a  large  city,  or  even  a  village, 
can  little  appreciate  or  understand  the  pleasure 
felt  by  the  new  settler  in  producing  comforts  from 
rough  and  often  inhospitable  surroundings.  It 
seems  as  if  nature  designed  to  invest  such  toil 
with  a  delight  which  is  increased  by  its  difficulties. 
The  home  feeling  is  also  strengthened  rather  than 
weakened  by  this  conflict  and  hardship.  The 
piquant  spice  of  indescribable  flavor  derived  from 
rearing  the  rude  surroundings  of  a  pioneer's  home 
is  one  of  the  fascinations  of  this  kind  of  life. 

It  was  now  the  month  of  July,  and  our  crops 
promised  a  bountiful  return  for  our  labors.  The 
corn  planted  on  the  sod  was  luxuriant  beyond 
description.     During  August  we  had  new   pota- 


100  TOM  CLIFTON. 

toes  on  our  table.  We  had  taken  great  pains  with 
our  garden,  and  the  yield  of  vegetables  promised 
to  be  very  large.  In  addition  to  the  land  already 
ploughed,  we  had  broken  over  sixteen  acres  for 
winter  wheat,  which  was  to  be  seeded  in  the  fall 
of  the  year. 

One  day  in  July,  to  our  surprise,  we  found  Peter 
mowing  prairie  grass.  After  a  half-acre  or  less 
had  been  levelled,  the  portion  which  had  been  cut 
was  carefully  tied  up  in  sheaves  and  the  remainder 
was  raked  up  and  carried  away. 

The  plough  which  was  used  for  breaking  the 
sod  was  brought  out  and  carefully  sharpened.  A 
breaking-plough  cuts  the  sod  from  twelve  to  six- 
teen inches  wide  and  from  two  and  a  half  to  three 
inches  thick,  and  also  turns  the  sod  bottom  side 
up. 

The  ploughing  in  this  instance  was  done  with 
such  unusual  care  as  to  make  me  very  curious  as 
to  its  purpose. 

The  sod  was  cut  with  a  sharpened  spade  into 
pieces  fifteen  inches  long,  and  these  were  carefully 
piled  up  to  season  or  dry. 

"  What  kind  o'  crap  yer  goin'  ter  raise  dar, 
Pete  ?  "  inquired  Aleck. 

"  Build  house,"  was  the  half-breed's  sententious 
reply. 

Our  corn  and  vegetables  were  now  in  such  a 
condition  that  it  looked  as  though  we  might  have 
a  little  leisure  for  fishing  and  shooting. 


THE  SOD  HOUSE.  101 

Aleck  expressed  his  satisfaction  by  saying, 
"  Notliin'  fer  dis  chile  ter  do  but  sit  on  de  fence 
an'  see  de  craps  grow  I  " 

After  a  day  of  rest  and  recreation,  as  we  sat 
together  one  evening  in  onr  tent,  Peter  said  in  his 
brief,  energetic  style,  "  To-morrow  build  house." 

Aleck,  who,  as  he  had  often  said,  had  been  raised 
a  carpenter,  looked  surprised,  and  demurred  at  the 
scarcity  of  lumber  by  saying,  "  Mighty  slim  fixin's 
fer  a  house  ;  nuffin  to  make  dat  house  of  but  do's 
and  winders." 

Peter  replied  between  whiffs  of  his  pipe,  "  Sod 
house ;  lumber  'nough,  good  'nough." 

The  next  day  we  selected  the  place  for  our  new 
dwelling,  or  to  put  it  more  correctly,  Peter  and 
my  father  had  previously  selected  the  site  and 
only  gave  us  the  pleasure  of  talking  it  over  and 
re-locating  it  under  their  direction. 

The  spot  selected  was  near  the  spring  of  water, 
on  a  level  spot  near  the  top  of  the  gradually  ascend- 
ing slope  opposite  the  lakes. 

Back  of  this  arose  a  slight  ridge,  which  Peter 
explained  would  be  a  protection  against  the  force 
of  the  wind,  in  case  of  cyclones  or  blizzards  which 
sometimes  occur  in  that  section  of  country. 

Aleck  showed  undisguised  amazement  and  curi- 
osity at  everything  that  was  done.  His  thick  lips 
parted  contemptuously,  and  at  times  he  rolled  his 
eyes  so  frightfully  that  nothing  but  the  whites 
were  visible.     But  in  spite  of  his  protests  he  went 


102  TOM  CLIFTON. 

faithfully  to  work  to  make  the  measurements  from* 
a  rough  plan  which  was  produced  by  my  father, 
and  set  the  corner  posts  into  the  ground  for  the 
contemplated  building. 

During  the  week  Peter  began  carting  the  sod, 
which  had  been  piled  up  on  the  prairie. 

The  outlines  of  a  house  thirty-five  feet  long  by 
twenty-five  broad  were  marked  out  on  the  site. 
Aleck  viewed  the  structure  with  suspicion,  occa- 
sionally stopping  his  work  to  look  at  the  meagre 
pile  of  lumber  at  hand,  and  then  with  a  shake  of 
his  head  would  mutter  a  protest  against  trying  to 
build  a  house  without  lumber.  "  Massa  Clifton," 
he  said,  "  we  hasn't  got  'nuff  lumber  to  build  up 
one  chink  o'  dat  house.  I'se  raised  a  carpenter, 
I  war.  Nebber  seed  sich  a  plum  fool  as  dat  Pete  ; 
dat  Injun  do'an  know  nuffin'  'bout  house  buildin'. 
What's  dem  sod  fer,  sar  ?  " 

In  reply  my  father  only  smiled  and  said,  "  You'll 
see  pretty  soon,  Aleck." 

It  will  be  seen  that  Aleck  was  both  sceptical 
and  jealous.  It  did  look  to  me  like  a  big  under- 
taking, to  attempt  to  build  a  house  with  the 
material  at  hand ;  but  I  was  not  likely  t6  apj^ly 
Aleck's  epithet,  "  plum  foolishness,"  to  anything 
my  father  undertook  by  Peter's  advice. 

In  the  evening  my  father  explained  to  us  that 
he  was  about  to  build  a  large  sod  house.  He  told 
us  that  these  houses  were  common  among  the 
settlers  of  the  prairie ;  and  although  we  had  never 


THE  SOD  HOUSE.  103 

seen  them,  there  were  several  within  a  few  miles 
of  us.  These  were  all  small,  but  he  saw  no  reason 
why  one  could  not  be  built  of  larger  proportions 
and  more  convenient  than  those  generally  in  use. 
When  properly  made  they  resembled  in  many 
respects  the  "  adobe  "  houses  of  Mexico  and  Cali- 
fornia. They  had,  moreover,  tlie  excellent  quali- 
ties of  being  warm  in  winter  and  cool  in  summer, 
and  he  believed  that  they  were  superior  to  any  log 
or  frame  building  that  we  could  hope  to  get  time 
to  construct  before  the  coming  of  winter. 

To  this  Peter  gave  assent  by  saying,  "  Warm 
'nough,  cool  'nough,  good  'nough." 

This  explanation  increased  our  interest  when 
work  was  resumed  the  next  morning. 

Aleck  Avorked  skilfully  from  my  father's  plans, 
and  set  the  posts  for  the  doors  and  windows  and 
also  the  few  strong  rafters  running  from  the  ridge- 
pole to  the  horizontal  joists  spiked  to  the  top  of  the 
posts  set  at  the  four  corners  of  the  building. 
Posts  on  each  side  of  the  house  outlined  the  win- 
dow spaces  and  either  side  of  the  door  space.  In 
front  the  door  and  window  frames  were  made 
unusually  strong  by  settling  scantlings  into  the 
ground  reaching  to  the  joists  at  the  eaves, 
although  Peter  said  he  had  never  seen  it  done 
before  and  thought  it  unnecessary. 

While  Father  and  Aleck  worked  at  the  carpen- 
ter's bench  getting  out  casings  for  the  windows, 
the  rest  began  laying  the  sod  walls  of  the  house. 


104  TOM  CLIFTON. 

This  sod  was  composed  of  a  curioas  twisted  com- 
pact mass  of  strong  grass  roots  and  earth.  The 
pieces  were  laid  in  the  same  manner  as  bricks  are 
laid,  by  carefully  breaking  joints. 

Peter  mixed  some  very  adhesive  clay  with  a 
little  chopped  straw  to  form  a  mortar  which  was 
used  between  the  sod  and  around  window  and 
door  spaces,  where  the  sod  was  cut  to  fit  the 
upright  scantlings  to  which  the  window  casings 
were  to  be  adjusted.  In  a  few  days  the  walls  were 
complete  and  proved  very  solid  and  strong.  Dur- 
ing the  building  of  the  walls  Aleck  often  left  his 
work  to  see  that  they  were  "  plumb,"  an  inter- 
ference to  which  Peter  good-naturedly  assented  by 
saying  "  More  straight,  more  strong." 

I  now  learned  why  the  sod  had  been  piled  up  to 
dry.  It  was  that  they  might  not  shrink  away  and 
leave  large  cracks  around  the  doors  and  windows. 

As  the  work  progressed  Peter  expressed  his 
satisfaction  by  saying,  "  Good  'nough  for  Queen." 

As  the  house  began  to  assume  form,  even  Aleck 
became  enthusiastic,  and  said,  "  Massa  Clifton, 
reckon  dis'll  be  a  right  smart  house.  Dog  gone 
if  dis  yere  boy  eber  seen  one  like  it  befo'.  Some 
good  do's  and  winders,  sar  !  " 

I  think  no  boy  princes  ever  viewed  the  erection 
of  a  palace  with  the  satisfaction  with  which  Matt 
and  I  contemplated  the  building  of  this  sod  house. 

Finally  the  side  walls  were  finished  and  the 
inside  made  almost  as  smooth  as  plaster.     It  was 


THE  SOD  HOUSE.  105 

divided  into  rooms  by  three  sod  walls  which  ran 
partially  across,  leaving  a  space  in  the  centre  some 
five  feet  wide,  where  no  wall  had  been  built. 

These  were  also  smoothed  off,  and  two  coats  of 
whitewash  were  applied  to  all  the  inside  walls. 
When  dry  they  looked  almost  as  well  as  if  plas- 
tered. The  roof  was  made  by  nailing  pieces  of 
board,  Avhich  had  been  sawed  into  two-inch  strips, 
across  the  rafters.  This  frame  work  was  then 
thatched  with  the  long  prairie  grass  securely  fas- 
tened upon  it,  and  over  this  sods  were  carefully 
laid  overlapping  each  other  as  is  done  with 
shingles. 

"  No  cold,  no  water,  get  in  house,"  said  Peter, 
and  so  it  proved. 

One  problem  remained  unsolved  after  all  the 
work  was  done.  What  should  be  done  for  chim- 
neys? My  father  proposed  one  of  sod,  but  Peter 
had  declared  them  to  be  unsafe  by  saying,  "  Sod 
fall  down." 

Aleck  declared  that  very  good  chimneys  could 
be  built  with  mud  and  green  sticks,  and  his  plan 
was  adopted.  We  had  never  seen  anything  of 
this  kind  before,  and  were  very  curious  about 
them.  They  were  built  by  crossing  the  sticks  in 
a  square  like  a  cob  house,  and  filling  the  chinks 
with  mud.  I  have  often  since  seen  stick  chimneys 
in  Southern  cabins,  but  never  one  so  workmanlike 
and  handsome  as  those  built  by  Aleck  for  our  sod 
house. 


106  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Aleck  worked  with  great  zeal  at  these  chimneys, 
and  also  in  finishing  the  interior   of   the   house. 

Perhaps  my  early  impressions  are  more  vivid 
than  those  of  later  years,  but  I  do  not  remember 
ever  having  seen  a  workman  engaged  on  a  build- 
ing of  this  description  show  more  ingenuity  than 
he  did. 

A  partition  of  matched  boards  divided  the  front 
of  the  house  into  a  kitchen  and  a  sitting-room,  the 
first  ten  feet  by  fifteen  in  size,  one  chimney  serv- 
ing both  rooms.  The  remainder  of  the  house  was 
divided  into  four  rooms,  sod  walls  running  across 
the  house,  and  matched  boards  forming  the  parti- 
tions on  the  hall  side.  Ordinary  doors  were  hung, 
and  each  bedroom  had  one  window.  In  one  of 
the  rear  rooms  Aleck  had  built  another  chimney, 
by  which  both  the  hall  and  the  room  could  be 
heated.  When  the  partitions  were  painted  and 
curtains  hung  at  the  windows,  the  rooms  had 
a  very  pleasing  effect.  Even  Aunt  Hitty,  not 
accustomed  to  over-praise  anything,  admitted  that 
the  house  "  would  do."  Closets,  shelves,  a  kitchen 
table,  and  other  conveniences,  made  the  house  so 
neat  that  one  could  scarcely  believe  it  to  be  built 
of  sod. 

When  racks  for  our  guns,  and  cases  for  my 
father's  books,  had  been  placed  in  the  sitting-room, 
a  mantel-piece  provided  for  the  clock,  and  a  brightly 
covered  table  placed  in  the  centre,  we  thought  our- 
selves not  only  comfortable,  but  extremely  fine. 


THE  SOD  HOUSE.  107 

My  father's  room,  as  well  as  Aunt  Hitty's,  had  a 
good  bedstead ;  but  the  others  had  only  shal- 
low, box-like  bunks,  which  were,  after  all,  very 
satisfactory. 

Aunt  Hitty  had  at  first  looked  at  the  sod  house 
with  unconcealed  contempt.  She  was  sure  it 
would  tumble  down ;  but  now  that  it  was  finished 
she  was  delighted,  and  expressed  it  by  exclaiming, 
"I  declar,  who'd  a  thought  it?  A  freak  of  natur !  " 
and  similar  exclamations  peculiar  to  herself. 

During  harvesting  time  we  continued  to  live 
in  the  tent. 

My  father,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  the  settlement, 
bought  two  air-tight  sheet-iron  stoves.  To  those 
who  think  we  were  taking  extravagant  precautions 
for  heating,  I  will  say  that  winter  weather  in 
Minnesota  is  very  cold,  the  mercury  sometimes 
falling  to  30,  and  even  40,  degrees  below  zero. 
After  the  twentieth  of  July,  which  is  about  the 
time  when  crops  begin  to  mature  in  this  latitude, 
we  began  the  work  of  harvesting.  It  was  finished 
during  August,  and  the  yield  seemed  to  us  extraor- 
dinary. We  gathered  eight  hundi-ed  bushels  of 
turnips  to  the  acre,  and  eight  hundred  bushels  of 
potatoes,  most  of  which  were  sold  at  Fort  Ripley. 
We  had  six  hundred  bushels  of  carrots,  which, 
with  turnips,  were  fed  to  the  stock  in  the  winter. 

There  was  a  good  yield  of  corn,  most  of  which 
was  sold  for  fair  prices  at  the  settlement,  return- 
ing enough  money  to  buy  our  winter  provisions, 


108  TOM  CLIFTON. 

and  pay  Aleck,  Peter,  and  Matt  their  wages  as 
was  agreed.  We  also  had  plenty  of  vegetables 
for  winter  use. 

After  harvest  the  weather  still  continued  fine, 
but  with  nights  so  chilly  that  we  were  glad  to 
strike  our  tents  and  move  into  our  new  house. 
Before  it  became  too  cold,  we  had  built  a  sod  barn, 
with  a  canvas  roof,  for  the  cattle,  and  had  cut 
enough  prairie  grass  for  their  food ;  this,  without 
the  carrots  and  turnips,  was  sufficient  to  keep  them 
throughout  the  winter. 

The  weather  continuing  fair  (although  it  was 
the  last  of  September)  we  began  breaking  the  land 
for  which  Matt  had  filed  pre-emption  papers. 

A  widow  or  a  minor  at  the  head  of  a  family 
may  pre-empt  land,  but  must  first  file  a  written 
declaration  of  his  intention  to,  and  must  also  live 
for  a  certain  time  on  the  land,  and  make  improve- 
ments thereon. 

Peter  and  Aleck  had  made  similar  application ; 
and  Aleck,  poor  fellow,  was  full  of  anticipation 
of  building  himself  a  sod  house  "  like  Massa  Clif- 
ton's." 

"I'se  go  down  Souf  by  and  by,  and  buy  my- 
self and  my  wife  of  dat  ole  Massa  Jenkins,  an' 
lib  here  like  a  possum  all  de  days  ob  my  life !  " 
said  Aleck. 

My  father  looking  up  said  compassionately,  "  No 
one  owns  you  but  God,  Aleck.  It  seems  hard 
for  you  to  understand  that." 


THE  SOD  HOUSE.  109 

Then  laying  his  hand  on  Aleck's  shoulder  he 
said,  "  Never  forget  God's  claim  on  you.  Let  us 
ask  Him  to  restore  you  those  you  love ;  "  and 
although  Peter  and  Matt  were  Roman  Catholics, 
they  knelt  with  us,  and  when  they  arose  from  their 
knees  their  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears,  so  elo- 
quent is  a  good  man's  prayer. 

Peter  often  expressed  his  sentiments  regarding 
my  father,  by  saying,  "  Good  man,  whisper,  God 
hear  him.  Bad  man,  yell  loud,  God  not  hear 
him." 

"  This  seems  to  be  the  belief  of  many  people  of 
every  creed,"  said  my  father  (who  did  not  see  the 
compliment  intended  for  himself),  "but  God  hears 
us  according  to  our  needs,  and  not  according  to 
our  deserts." 

I  never  knew  my  father  to  try  to  proselyte  a 
man  of  another  creed  to  his  own :  he  always 
said,  "  A  man's  belief  is  between  himself  and 
God.  If  his  life  does  not  speak  for  him,  it  is  use- 
less tcT  utter  words  regarding  his  religion." 

When  my  father  had  urged  Peter  to  take  up 
land,  Peter  inflated  his  lungs  and  with  a  kingly 
air  said,  "  What  want  land  for  when  I  breathe  all 
sky,  all  heaven  ?  " 

I  have  since  observed  that  the  half-breeds 
of  this  region,  although  they  assume  the  habits  of 
the  whites  for  a  time,  seldom  settle  on  a  farm  of 
their  own.  In  this  tney  show  the  characteristics 
of    their   Indian   mothers.     They   seem    unhappy 


110  TOM  CLIFTON, 

i 

unless,  as  Peter  once  expressed  it,  they  can  "  pull 
up  stakes  and  move  any  time." 

Peter,  when  under  good  influences,  was  a  good 
man,  and  he  seemed  to  reverence  my  father.  But 
twice  since  we  had  known  him  he  had  been  to  the 
settlement ;  and  when  on  his  return  we  had  asked 
him  what  he  had  been  doing  he  had  replied, 
"  Peter  bad  man,  get  drunk." 

My  father  looked  sorrowful  at  these  times  ;  and 
it  pained  Peter  more  than  words  of  reproof,  for  he 
was  heard  to  say,  "  Big  heart,  brother  look  sorry, 
make  heart  ache  ! "  Peter,  from  his  pay,  had 
bought  a  cow,  while  Matt  had  added  a  colt  and  a 
bull  to  his  stock,  and  had  bought  hens  and 
chickens,  although  he  was  obliged  to  do  extra 
work  to  take  care  of  them. 


^J 


HUNTING  IN  MINNESOTA.  Ill 


CHAPTER   X. 

HUNTING- IN   MINNESOTA. 

We  were  now  comfortably  settled  for  the  winter, 
and  were  at  liberty  to  indulge  our  taste  for  fishing 
and  hunting  to  a  greater  extent  than  had  been 
thought  best  during  the  summer. 

My  father  required  Matt  and  me  to  study  and 
recite  to  him  every  evening.  At  first  I  thought 
this  a  great  hardship ;  but  he  had  a  peculiar  talent 
for  investing  every  subject  he  taught  with  such 
interest,  that  his  pupil  was  always  desirous  of 
knowing  more,  so  that 'study  and  recitation  were 
kept  up  during  the  entire  winter. 

Matt  had  never  been  to  school,  but  in  some  way 
had  learned  to  read  and  write.  He  was  very 
eager  to  learn,  and  went  at  his  lessons  with  what 
seemed  to  me  needless  enthusiasm. 

Father's  health  continued  to  improve  daily,  so 
that  Aunt  Hitty  thought  he  looked  many  years 
younger  than  when  we  left  Centreboro.  I  have 
emphasized  this  fact,  for  it  was  one  wliich  we  felt 
would  have  justified  our  experiment,  even  had  the 
farm  been  a  failure. 

Aleck  took  great  pleasure  in  contriving  conveni- 


112  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ences  for  the  sod  house,  over  which  his  enthusiasm 
was  boundless. 

"  Clar  to  gracious,"  said  he,  "  nebber  want  no 
better  house  dan  dat  dar  one.  Mos'  as  good  a 
house  as  Massa  George's,  whar  I'se  raised  in  Car- 
lina,  sar !  Jes'  look  at  dem  do's  and  winders. 
Clar  dey's  mos'  good  nuff  to  eat.  Nebber  want  no 
better  house  dan  dat,  sar !  " 

Matt  and  I  now  devoted  whole  days  to  hunting 
with  Peter,  with  an  enjoyment  that  can  only  be 
understood  by  boys  who  have  engaged  in  such 
wild  sport.  I  do  not  know  that  we  were  more 
delighted  than  Garry,  who  would  bark  and  whine 
with  delight  whenever  we  took  down  our  rifles. 

The  sandhill  cranes  gathered  in  large  numbers 
around  the  grain  which  we  did  not  consider  worth 
harvesting ;  but  it  was  hard  for  us  to  get  near 
them,  until  Peter  taught  us  to  lie  in  ambush  for 
them,  by  setting  up  a  corn-shock  and  spreading 
out  the  base  of  it  wide  enough  to  hide  us.  The 
cranes  were  very  shy ;  but  we  learned  to  wait 
patiently  until,  making  a  broad  circle  in  the  air, 
with  their  peculiar  cry,  these  bluish-gray,  long- 
legged  birds  would  settle  on  some  favorite  feeding- 
ground,  all  unsuspicious  of  the  danger  concealed 
in  the  corn-shocks  near. 

Our  greatest  sport,  however,  was  duck  and  wild 
goose  shooting,  of  which  there  was  great  abun- 
dance on  the  prairie. 

Garry  soon  learned  that  he  must  lie  still  while 


HUNTING  IN  MINNESOTA.  113 

waiting  for  the  order  to  "fetch  'em."  On  such 
occasions  he  would  wait  patiently,  with  his  nose 
between  his  paws,  although  quivering  with  desire 
to  be  at  the  birds. 

Peter  had  great  patience  and  ability  in  teaching 
animals,  and  although  he  had  never  struck  Garry 
a  blow,  the  dog  was  his  obedient  pupil. 

In  the  small  grassy  ponds  that  abound  on  the 
Minnesota  prairies,  mallards,  widgeons,  and  spring- 
tails  are  found  concealed  among  the  wild  rice, 
reeds,  and  rushes,  with  which  they  are  thickly 
grown. 

During  September  father  announced  that  he 
was  about  to  visit  St.  Paul  to  buy  stores  for 
winter.  At  first  he  proposed  to  take  Peter  with 
him ;  but  I  protested  against  this  arrangement, 
because  it  was  so  much  greater  fun  to  hunt  with 
Peter  than  without  him.  Aleck  did  not  understand 
sports,  and  therefore  took  but  comparatively  little 
interest  in  them. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Aleck  was  to  accom- 
pany father  to  St.  Paul,  while  Peter  was  to  remain 
at  home  to  care  of  the  stock  and  to  accompany  us 
in  huntinof. 

Our  delight  was  great  when  after  their  depart- 
ure Peter  examined  his  rifle  and  shot-gun  and  said, 
"  Now  go  shoot  big  ducks,  Whirr !  "  The  last 
word  Peter  pronounced  with  a  great  roll  of  the  r's, 
and  spread  out  his  hands  and  fingers  in  pantomime, 
indicating  the  flight  of  birds. 


114  TOM  CLIFTON. 

So  with  our  guns  on  our  shoulders  we  followed 
Peter  to  the  prairie  where  there  were  several 
sloughs  or  marshes,  one  of  which  we  stealthily 
approached.  I  crept  up  to  a  musk-rat  mound  and 
stood  guard.  Peter  and  Matt  took  a  position  on 
the  other  side  of  the  pond.  I  was  not  able  to  see 
the  use  of  all  this,  as  not  a  feather  could  be  seen, 
and  only  my  confidence  in  Peter's  sagacity  restrained 
me  from  expressing  my  distrust. 

When  all  were  concealed  in  the  rushes,  at  a 
signal  from  Peter,  Matt  fired  at  random  over  the 
slough.  In  an  instant,  with  a  prodigious  quack- 
ing and  fluttering,  a  flock  of  ducks  sprang  into 
the  air,  making  a  break  in  the  direction  of  our 
lake.  I  was  so  agitated  and  surprised  that  I  verily 
believe  I  could  not  have  hit  a  barn  door.  But 
Peter  fired  two  shots  and  down  came  three  mal- 
lard green  heads,  two  with  one  barrel. 

Garry  forgot  his  lessons  in  patience  and  rushed 
to  retrieve  the  birds  without  orders,  wlien  a  rough 
"  down "  from  Peter  brought  him  to  a  charge 
where  he  waited  for  the  order,  then  he  tore  away 
for  the  game  like  mad. 

"Why  didn't  you  let  Garry  fetch  'em  in  the 
first  place,  Peter  ?  "  I  inquired  reproachfully. 

"  Spoil  dog ;  learn  to  mind ;  keep  still,  like 
boys ! " 

By  this  he  conveyed  to  us  the  idea  that  we  must 
learn  patience  and  coolness,  and  not  give  way  to 
excitement  and  disobey  instructions. 


HUNTING  IN  MINNESOTA.  115 

During  the  day  we  shot  some  canvas-back 
ducks,  over  which  Peter  expressed  liis  enthusiasm 
by  saying,  "  King  birds."  We  at  first  could  see 
no  difference  between  them  and  the  red-heads  we 
had  bagged,  but  Peter  drew  our  attention  to  the 
difference  in  the  length  and  shape  of  the  head. 
In  this  they  greatly  differ ;  there  is  a  difference  in 
the  bill  also,  the  canvas-back  duck  having  a  black 
bill  and  the  mallard  a  light  blue. 

We  were  returning  home  loaded  with  game, 
when  we  were  brought  to  a  standstill  by  a  motion 
from  Peter  for  silence  !  "  Hush !  "  says  Peter  in 
a  whisper.  He  takes  one  step  forward,  when  a 
cock  grouse  flushes  before  him.  He  throws  his 
gun  to  his  face  and  a  long  stream  of  feathers  drift 
downward,  showing  his  perfect  aim,  and  the  bird 
drops  on  the  grass.  A  step  more,  and  another 
shot  brings  down  another  fat  grouse. 

"  Prairie  chicken  fat  now,"  said  Peter,  bagging 
the  grouse. 

It  was  late  when  we  reached  home,  tired  and 
hungry,  but  not  too  tired  to  help  Peter  in  dressing 
and  broiling  some  of  our  game  for  supper. 

More  delicious  food  I've  never  eaten ;  and  my 
mouth  waters  as  I  write,  at  the  remembrance  of 
the  delicious  flavor  of  the  canvas-backs.  They 
fully  justified  Peter's  enthusiastic  declaration, 
"  Red-head  good,  canvas-back  best  all."  The  can- 
vas-back is  indeed,  for  table  use,  the  royal  bird,  as 
Peter  said. 


116  TOM  CLIFTON. 

That  same  evening,  as  we  were  returning  to  the 
house  after  milking  the  cow,  we  heard  the  honk- 
ing of  wild  geese.  I  never  saw  Peter,  usually  so 
stolid,  excited  before.  Laying  his  hand  first  on  a 
stick  and  then  on  a  stone,  he  exclaimed,  "  Give  me 
something  fire  !  had  a  gun,  shoot !  good  mind  to, 
anyway  ! " 

We  laughed  to  see  Peter  as  excited  as  we  had 
been  in  the  morning. 

Peter,  seeing  the  absurdity  of  his  excitement, 
said  smiling,  "  Goose  self." 

The  next  morning  Peter  said,  "  Shoot  some  goose 
to-day!" 

To  those  who  do  not  understand  the  habits  of 
geese  in  this  region,  I  will  say  that  two  flights 
a  day  are  made  by  these  birds  from  the  lake,  in 
search  of  food ;  one  at  daybreak,  and  the  other 
at  about  four  o'clock  in  the' afternoon,  their  flight 
lasting  about  an  hour.  The  geese  are  accom- 
panied by  the  snow  goose  and  the  white-fronted 
goose,  better  known  in  this  region  as  brant, 
although  they  do  not  resemble  the  brant  of  the 
seacoast. 

Peter  began  by  looking  over  the  field  where 
our  meagre  wheat  grew,  and  where  he  found 
traces  of  their  having  been  feeding.  After  making 
a  careful  examination,  he  dug  two  pits,  utilizing 
the  earth  dug  from  them  for  a  slight  embankment 
around  their  edges ;  wheat  straws  were  then  care- 
fully stuck  into  the  ground,  until  its  appearance 


HUNTING  IN  MINNESOTA.  117 

accorded  with  the  natural  surroundings.  Here 
Peter  set  up  what  we  thought  were  very  poor 
decoys  or  imitation  geese. 

"Sure  they  must  be  geese,"  said  Matt  deri- 
sively, "  to  want  to  make  acquaintance  with  them 
things ! " 

Peter  said  not  a  word,  but  went  on  with  his 
preparations. 

Before  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  Matt  and 
I  took  our  positions  in  one  pit,  and  Peter  placed 
himself  in  the  other.  We  waited  until  our 
patience  was  completely  exhausted. 

"A  watched  pot  never  biles,"  said  Matt,  usually 
very  patient,  "and  by  George,  I'm  not  goin'  to 
watch  this  pot  longer." 

"  Hush  !  birds  coming  !  "  was  Peter's  warning,  as 
if  with  his  trained  sense  of  hearing,  he  could  hear 
the  birds  in  the  air. 

"  Wait  till  I  say  fire ! "  said  Peter,  in  a  whis- 
per. "Goose  look  big,  look  out  not  fire  too 
soon ! " 

Here  let  me  explain  in  parenthesis,  that  in  the 
air,  with  no  intervening  object  to  correct  the  eye, 
birds  above  a  hunter  look  very  large,  so  that  the 
inexperienced  are  often  deceived  as  to  the  distance 
from  him,  and  are  tempted  to  fire  too  soon. 

In  a  moment  more  a  flock  of  fifteen  of  these 
birds  circled  as  if  viewing  the  ground,  and  set- 
tled in  the  wheat  around  us.  Bang.,  hang!  hang, 
hang!  hang.,  hang!  went  our  shot-guns,  and  as  a 


118  TOM  CLIFTON. 

result  we  picked  up  one  brant  and  six  fat 
geese,  which  we  carried  home  to  Aunt  Hitty  in 
triumph. 

The  weather  was  getting  so  cool  that  we  had 
but  little  difficulty  in  keeping  our  game  for  sev- 
eral weeks. 

During  this  season  of  sport  Peter  taught  us 
the  correct  use  of  a  rifle,  as  well  as  the  shot-gun ; 
always  to  carry  a  gun  pointing  upward,  and  never 
to  hold  it  in  any  other  way  except  to  bring  it 
into  position  to  fire.  Some  sportsmen  carry  a 
gun  with  muzzle  pointing  downward ;  but  Peter 
explained  that  many  accidents  occurred  to  both 
hunters  and  dogs,  by  the  fingers  touching  the  trig- 
ger as  the  barrel  is  lifted  into  position,  which,  if 
brought  from  the  shoulder  to  the  line  of  aim,  could 
not  happen.  He  also  taught  us  before  jumping 
over  any  obstacle  to  bring  the  hammer  to  a  half- 
cock,  and  also,  in  going  through  a  thicket  or 
sage  brush,  to  cover  the  hammer  of  our  guns 
with  one  hand ;  and  to  withdraw  the  charge  or 
fire  it  when  we  had  decided  to  shoot  no  more  for 
the  day,  and  to  clean  our  guns  or  rifles  with  tow 
or  flannel,  and  to  close  up  the  muzzle  with  a  plug 
made  of  cork  or  flannel,  before  placing  the  gun  in 
the  rack." 

Once  during  the  first  week  of  hunting  we  tried 
shooting  geese  and  ducks  on  the  lake,  covering 
our  boat  with  green  boughs,  but  were  less  suc- 
cessful than  in  the  other  manner.         * 


HUNTING  IN  MINNESOTA.  US 

Under  Peter's  tuition  we  were  fast  becoming 
expert  hunters. 

Matt  had,  however,  been  making  some  poor 
shots,  when  Peter  said,  "  Maybe  gun  don't  fit  you." 

We  had  heard  of  fitting  clothes  to  a  boy,  but 
never  had  heard  of  fitting  a  gun  to  one.  "  Show 
how ! "  said  Peter,  seeing  our  incredulity. 

Standing  in  front  of  the  sitting-room  mirror, 
he  instructed  Matt  to  bring  his  gun  into  posi- 
tion to  aim  at  his  right  eye,  and  in  substance  said, 
"  If  you  see  your  right  eye  just  above  the  rib  of 
the  gun,  you  may  know  that  the  gun  fits  you." 
Peter  then  pointed  out  the  marks  of  the  muskets 
to  indicate  how  much  powder  they  should  carry  to 
be  most  effective,  for  although  he  could  not  at 
that  time  read  or  write  he  knew  all  these  marks 
on  the  English  and  Belgian  guns  at  a  glance. 

About  a  week  after  my  father's  departure  we 
sat  talking  about  hunting,  with  Aunt  Hitty  sniff- 
ing her  contempt,  not  at  our  game,  but  at  our 
talk,  when  the  young  officer  I  have  before  men- 
tioned rode  up,  and  dismounting,  handed  us  two 
letters,  one  from  my  father  and  the  other  from 
Bess. 

Both  of  them  were  brief  and  in  different  ways 
conveyed  the  same  intelligence.  Aleck  had  been 
missing  for  two  days,  and  father  wanted  Peter  to 
come  to  St.  Paul  to  take  care  of  the  teams.  Father 
thought  that  Aleck  had  been  kidnapped  and  carried 
down   the    river.     Bess's    intelligence  was  of  the 


120  TOM  CLIFTON. 

same  nature,  in  addition  to  which  we  were  delighted 
to  learn  that  she  proposed  to  come  home  for  the 
winter . 

Lieutenant  Preston  was  invited  to  remain  for 
the  night,  and  accepted  our  hospitality.  Peter 
said  but  little,  but  turned  pale  and  rigid  with 
anger  at  the  thought  that  Aleck  had  been  stolen, 
and  said,  "  Bad  white  man,  worse  bad  Indian. " 
Lieutenant  Preston  made  no  inquiries  or  remarks 
regarding  Aleck,  as  if  he  had  no  sympathy  with 
our  loss. 

Father  had  heard  througli  my  uncle  that  some 
inquiries  had  been  made  about  him  and  his  rela- 
tion to  Aleck ;  but  he  had  thought  nothing  of  it, 
and  was  naturally  indignant  at  the  thought  that 
Aleck  had  been  kidnapped,  although  he  had  no 
real  proof  that  such  was  the  case. 

Peter  started  at  once  for  St.  Paul,  and  in  a 
few  days  returned  with  the  teams,  but  father 
came  earlier  by  boat  bringing  Bess  with  him. 

He  said  that  he  liad  been  so  Avrought  up  by 
losing  Aleck,  that  on  Sunday,  being  asked  to 
occupy  a  city  pulpit,  he  preached  in  substance  the 
same  sermon  that  made  such  a  commotion  at 
Centreboro,  on  the  subject  of  the  duty  of  the 
free  States  regarding  slavery. 

"  Just  like  you,  for  all  your  life,  William  !  "  ex- 
claimed Aunt  Hitty.  "You  are  just  like  the 
man  in  Mother  Goose." 

"What  one  do  you  mean?"  inquired  my  father, 


HUNTING  IN  MINNESOTA.  121 

indignant   at    being   classified   with   any   hero  of 
Mother  Goose. 

"  When  he  saw  his  eyes  were  out, 
With  all  his  might  and  main 
He  jumped  into  another  bush 
To  scratch  them  in  again," 

quoted  Aunt  Hitty. 

Even  my  father  smiled  at  the  aptness  of  the 
quotation ;  and  Aunt  Hitty,  seeing  she  had  the 
best  of  the  talk,  heaped  my  father's  plate  with 
game. 

We  afterwards  learned  that  some  ultra  pro- 
slavery  men  had  been  heard  to  say,  that  it  wouldn't 
be  safe  for  him  again  to  preach  such  sermons  in 
St.  Paul. 

Matt,  like  the  rest  of  us,  w\as  quite  excited 
over  Aleck's  supposed  fate,  and  was  heard  to 
say  wrathfully,  "  The  murtherin'  villains  that 
would  stale  Aleck  would  stale  the  dog." 

"  It's  worse  than  stealing  the  newspapers  in 
New  York,  Matt ! "  I  said  quizzingly. 

"  Yis,"  said  Matt ;  "  an'  I  wanted  that  naygur 
to  help  build  me  a  house.  An'  sure,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  the  same  raskills  had   stole  me  father. " 

We  explained  to  Matt  that  they  did  not  kid- 
nap or  enslave  Irishmen  in  this  country. 

"  An'  why  not  ?  "  said  Matt,  piqued  not  a  little  ; 
"  sure  ain't  an   Irishman  as  good  as  a  naygur  ? " 


122  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WINTER    SCENES   ON   THE    PRAIRIE. 

The  autumn  months  were  the  pleasantest 
of  the  year.  The  days  were  warm  with  just 
enough  of  coolness  in  the  morning  and  evening 
to  make  them  delightful.  But  few  frosts  oc- 
curred, and  it  seemed  characteristic  of  the  climate 
that  it  seldom  rained  except  at  night.  The 
blue  haze  of  Indian  summer,  common  to  other 
latitudes,  was  here  intensified,  and  there  was  a 
lazy  languor  in  the  air,  as  if  nature,  after  the 
haste  of  summer,  was  loath  to  leave  its  languid 
repose  to  enter  upon  the  long  sleep  of  winter. 

Meanwhile  we  were  getting  very  well  prepared 
for  cold  weather. 

In  October  an  Indian  with  his  squaw  and  two 
daughters  about  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of  age 
visited  us.  The  woman  and  the  two  girls  were 
loaded  very  heavily  with  packs  of  wild  rice  and 
cranberries,  carried  by  portage  straps  passed  around 
the  forehead,  while  the  man  carried  a  pack  of  furs. 
These  they  expected  to  sell  at  the  settlement, 
which  was  the  centre  of  most  of  the  Indian  trade. 

As  we  had  gathered  cranberries  enough  for  our 


WINTER   SCENES  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.      123 

own  use  around  the  margin  of  the  lake,  we  did 
not  require  any,  but  father  bought  their  stock  of 
wild  rice.  It  did  not  resemble  ordinary  rice,  being 
darker  in  color,  and  father  told  us  that  the  French 
call  it  wild  oats  (folles  avoines).  Some  of  it 
was  cooked  for  our  dinner.  With  the  exception 
of  a  smoky  taste,  which  at  first  we  did  not  like, 
and  which  is  caused  by  the  Indian  method  of 
drying  it  on  a  scaffold  over  a  fire,  it  seemed 
much  like  the  rice  to  which  we  were  accustomed. 

The  squaw  was  ugly  and  wrinkled,  but  the 
daughters  were  straight,  lithe,  and  graceful.  There 
was  a  willow-like  flexibleness  in  their  movements 
which  I  have  never  seen  except  in  young  Indian 
girls. 

The  man  was  very  unlike  any  of  his  race  that 
I  had  ever  met  in  fiction,  being  very  dirty  and 
quite  stout.  His  face  was  furrowed  with  lines 
of  care,  and  was  tinged  with  a  peculiar  air  of 
sadness  and  sternness. 

After  the  bargaining  Avas  over  they  were  in- 
vited to  dinner.  We  had  for  dinner,  as  I 
can  distinctly  remember,  roast  pork ;  and  after  they 
had  eaten,  as  Matt  said,  "  like  hogs, "  they  still 
continued,  though  languidly,  as  if  it  were  a  task. 

My  aunt  said  to  Peter,  who  happened  in,  "  Them 
Injuns  don't  seem  to  be  very  hungry,  but  they 
keep  eatin'."  Peter  explained  that  they  consid- 
ered it  etiquette  to  eat  everything  set  before  them. 
Aunt   Hitty  laughing   said,    '^Tell  them,    Peter, 


124  TOM  CLIFTON. 

before  they  eat  us  out  of  house  and  home,  that 
they  needn't  eat  any  more  if  they  do  not  want 
to." 

My  sister'  Bess  tried  to  make  friends  with  the 
Indian  girls :  they  were  very  bashful,  but  seemed 
much  pleased  with  some  trinkets  she  gave  them. 

The  party  was  just  getting  ready  to  go,  when 
Peter  said  to  my  father,  "  Buy  furs  for  cold 
weather  ?  "  So  father  entered  into  further  negoti- 
ations with  them,  and  bought  from  their  pack 
all  the  furs  that  Peter  selected,  consisting  of  otter, 
wolf,  deer,  and  bear  skins.  These  furs  were 
beautifully  prepared,  and  were  soft  as  only  Indians 
can  make  them. 

Before  the  winter  really  set  in  Peter  began  to 
work  at  making  fur  leggings  and  overcoats.  In 
this  he  was  assisted  by  our  women,  who  worked 
under  his  direction,  until  we  were  all  well  equipped. 
One  advantage  this  climate  possessed  over  that  of 
New  England — we  could  dress  with  some  degree 
of  certainty  as  to  what  the  weather  would  be. 

After  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  in  November  the 
weather  cleared,  leaving  the  air  intensely  cold, 
but  dead  still  and  with  the  sun  shining  from  a 
cloudless  sky.  We  found  the  cold  very  deceptive, 
as  in  going  from  our  heated  rooms  into  the  air 
the  body  carried  with  it  an  atmosphere  of  heat 
which  made  the  cold  hardly  perceptible  for 
a  while.  I  had  an  early  illustration  of  this  which 
nearly  cost  me  my  ears  and   nose.     Starting  out 


WINTER   SCENES  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.      125 

one  morning,  I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  met 
Peter,  who  proceeded  to  tumble  me  roughly  in 
the  snow  and  to  rub  my  face  with  it.  I  struggled 
to  get  away,  thinking  it  cold  treatment  from  a 
friend ;  but  Peter  exclaimed,  "  Hold  still.  Man 
know  better'n  little  boy.  Nose  froze,  ears  froze." 
I  discovered  that  these  very  needful  appendages 
were  both  frozen,  and  that  Peter  had  applied 
the  best  possible  remedy  by  rubbing  them  with 
snow.  Had  I  gone  to  the  house  without  meeting 
Peter,  and  entered  a  warm  room,  I  should  very  likely 
have  lost  my  nose  and  ears.  As  it  was  I  suffered 
but  little  inconvenience  by  being  nipped  by  the 
frost. 

With  the  coming  of  winter  the  Mississippi  was 
closed  by  ice,  and  all  communication  except  by  the 
road  was  cut  off.  The  only  way  of  obtaining  our 
mail  was  to  drive  to  the  settlement  across  the 
prairie,  where  all  semblance  of  a  road  was  obliter- 
ated by  the  snow.  To  be  thvis  isolated  was  a 
great  hardship  for  my  father,  who  had  always  been 
accustomed  to  have  his  newspaper  regularly,  and 
to  be  in  constant  communication  with  his  friends  ; 
and  now  that  the  season  of  enforced  leisure  had 
come,  he  greatly  missed  his  usual  comforts.  Mrs. 
Ryan  was  also  anxious  to  hear  from  her  husband. 

"  Yer  father  wants  to  see  what  Congress  is 
a-doin',  and  what  that  windy  Phillips  and  that 
Garrison,  that  our  dog  is  named  for,  is  a  drivin'  at. 
I've  no  doubt  he's  a  disgracin'  the  dog,  though  !  " 


126  TOM  CLIFTON. 

said  Aunt  Hitty,  who  was,  by  the  way,  an  ardent 
Democrat  in  her  sympathies. 

"  Sure,"  said  Matt,  "  me  mither  cries  because 
we've  lost  me  father."  My  father  coming  in  and 
overhearing- this  remark  said,  "I  think  Peter  had 
better  take  the  grays  (so  he  called  our  span)  and 
drive  over  to  the  settlement  to-morrow.  Your 
aunt  says  we  are  nearly  out  of  coffee  and  sugar, 
and  we  cannot  get  along  very  well  without  them, 
and  besides  she  wants  some  snuff." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  you  want  your  newspapers, 
and  can't  do  without  them  any  longer,  William  ?  " 
said  my  aunt,  with  unusual  testiness. 

"  An'  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Ryan,  "  ain't  it  too  cowld 
for  the  byes  ?  the  thermometer  is  below  geroT 

"  It  won't  hurt  the  boys,"  said  father,  "  and  it 
is  not  best  for  them  to  stay  in  the  house  too  much ; 
they  must  get  accustomed  to  roughing  it." 

So  to  our  great  joy  we  were  allowed  to 
accompany  Peter  to  the  settlement  in  the  morn- 
ing. "  Bright  and  early,"  as  my  aunt  called  it, 
we  set  out. 

My  sister  Bess  said  we  looked  like  huge  cater- 
pillars in  our  fur  overcoats,  from  which  we  could 
hardly  see  out. 

What  a  morning  it  was!  How  the  snow  lay 
like  an  incrustation  of  silver  over  the  undulat- 
ing prairie  !  There  was  no  life  moving  over  its 
broad  expanse.  No  sound  was  heard  except  our 
own  voices,  and  the  silence  lent  effect  to  the  vast 
and  simple  landscape,  so  like  a  frozen  ocean. 


WINTER   SCENES   ON   THE  PRAIRIE.      127 

The  cold  was  intense,  and  the  air  was  motionless 
and  deathlike.  As  we  approached  the  settlement 
I  noticed  that  the  smoke  from  the  chimneys  fell 
lazily  to  the  ground  Peter  said,  "  Storm,  perhaps 
one  day,  perhajis  two  days,  hurry  hack." 

At  the  store  Peter  was  greeted  by  several  of  his 
old  hunting  and  voyagmg  friends,  who  occupied  so 
much  of  his  time  that  I  got  impatient  and  I 
couldn't  help  thinking  that  we  were  staying  too 
late.  Still  1  was  not  very  anxious,  although 
Peter's  breath  did  smell  suspicious ;  for  I  had 
great  confidence  in  his  good  sense.  I  have  since 
learned  from  experience  that  those  who  are  ordi- 
narily good  men  seem  to  lose  their  reliable  quali- 
ties when  they  come  in  contact  with  spirituous 
liquors. 

A  great  cause  of  joy  to  Matt  was  that  he  had  got 
a  letter.  There  were  also  two  letters  for  my  father ; 
one  of  them  was  given  me  by  the  post-master,  who 
said  he  thought  it  was  for  my  father,  although  he 
could  hardly  make  out  the  address.  It  was  super- 
scribed in  a  scraAvling  hand  on  a  dirty  envelope 
and  appeared  to  be  addressed  to  "  Massa  Clifton." 

It  was  quite  late  when  we  started  on  our  return. 
Peter  was  unusually  talkative  and  shook  hands  again 
and  again  with  his  friends.  I  heard  the  store- 
keeper say  to  Peter,  "  Better  hurry  uj),  old  man  !  " 

"  Maybe,  Mr.  Yankee,  you  know  better'n  Peter," 
said  Peter  angrily. 

At  last  we  started,  but  had  gone  only  a  little 


128  TOM  CLIFTON. 

way  before  a  few  flakes  of  snow  drifted  down 
through  the  air.  Peter  drove  with  his  head  and 
chin  far  down  in  his  furs  as  if  he  were  sleepy. 
We  must  have  been  midway  on  our  journey  when 
the  wind  began  to  rise.  Matt  put  his  hand  into 
the  pocket  of  Peter's  shaggy  overcoat  and  threw 
a  flask  out  into  the  snow.  Peter,  seeing  the  move- 
ment,'stopped  the  team,  and  was  going  to  get  out 
for  the  flask,  saying,  "  What  throw  Peter's  bottle 
away  for?  " 

"  Peter  is  drunk,"  said  Matt  resolutely,  "  and  it's 
going  to  storm  and  blow  !  " 

As  if  this  had  awakened  him  to  our  danger, 
Peter  looked  at  us  both  with  a  dazed  air,  and  said 
slowly,  looking  at  the  sky  and  sniffing  in  a  big 
breath  of  air  through  his  broad  nostrils,  "Air 
feels  storm,  Peter  bad  man  !  "  and  then,  after  look- 
ing around  the  prairie  as  if  to  get  his  bearings, 
and  lashing  the  horses  to  urge  them  forward,  he 
said  excitedly,  "  No  time  spare  ! "  The  wind 
continued  to  rise,  which  was  something  we  had 
never  before  seen  in  our  Minnesota  experience. 

Peter  was  visibly  sobered,  his  face  lengthened, 
and  his  faculties  seemed  to  awake  to  renewed 
keenness. 

An  hour  passed  and  the  storm  was  in  full  force 
upon  us.  The  cutting  wind  blew  directly  in  our 
faces  as  Peter  urged  the  horses  on.  The  air  was 
full  of  particles  of  snow  which  seemed  to  pierce 
the  flesh  like  needles  wherever  it  touched  our 
faces. 


WINTER  SCENES  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.     129 

We  were  in  tlie  midst  of  what  in  modern  lan- 
guage is  called  a  blizzard. 

Peter  seemed  now  to  strain  every  sense  to  ward 
off  dansrer.  He  sheltered  us  and  himself  behind 
the  barrels,  and  made  us  cover  oui-selves  in  the 
robes  and  blankets.  He  occasionally  touched 
my  face  with  his  own.  I  began  to  feel  drowsy. 
Peter  must  have  perceived  this  for  he  exclaimed, 
"  We  all  freeze  !  Get  out,  hold  on  sled,  run ! 
you  freeze ! "  We  obeyed  him,  and  with  be- 
numbed faculties,  holding  on  to  the  sled,  we 
walked  or  ran  behind  or  along  side. 

In  this  way  we  went  on  for  some  time,  the  horses 
stumbling  as  they  went,  for  they  were  giving  out. 
Still  we  went  on,  and  on,  until  one  of  the  horses 
fell.  Peter  with  prodigious  strength  raised  him, 
but  the  beast  could  not  or  would  not  go  farther. 
Peter  unhitched  and  turned  them  loose. 

He  then  took  his  portage-strap,  to  which  he  had 
attached  an  immense  basket,  and  placing  in  this 
the  robes  and  blankets,  he  started  to  walk,  with 
Matt  and  me  following  behind  him.  We  now 
began  the  terrible  struggle  on  foot  against  the 
wind.  "  Keep  close  me,"  said  Peter  command- 
ingly.  Peter's  attitude  showed  that  he  had 
braced  every  nerve  and  muscle  to  do  battle  against 
death.  The  air  now  seemed  a  solid  mass  of 
needles  driven  against  the  exposed  portions  of 
our  flesh.  The  cold  cut  through  us  as  if  the 
naked  body  was  exposed  to  the  terrible  blast. 
It  was  impossible  to  see  a  foot  before  us. 


130  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Keep  close  to  me ! "  occasionally  shouted 
Peter.  Through  this  wild,  fierce  storm  we  stag- 
gered, hardly  able  to  breathe  except  by  turning  our 
backs  to  the  wind. 

A  languor  stole  over  my  senses  and  I  fell.  Peter 
raised  me  to  my  feet  and  di-ove  me  before  him  with 
blows  from  his  hands  saying,  "  Fall  down,  never 
get  up  !  freeze  !  "  I  remember  hearing  these  words, 
although  they  sounded  far  away,  and  I  was  unac- 
countably indifferent  to  them.  Peter  shook  me, 
struck  me  with  the  flat  of  his  hand,  and  I  went  on. 
I  next  remembered  seeing  him  put  Matt  into  his 
portage  basket,  cover  him  with  furs,  and  sling  it 
over  his  back,  then  with  his  hands  under  my  arms 
partly  carrying  me,  we  went  on.  I  fell  again,  when 
Peter  made  one  more  appeal.  "  Fall  down,  die  !  " 
he  shouted.  Next  I  found  him  taking'  off  his  bisf 
fur  coat  and  wrapping  it  around  me.  This  seemed 
to  warm  me  a  little,  and  I  revived  when  he  poujed 
something  hot  down  my  throat,  which  I  afterwards 
found  out  was  "  hot  drops." 

Peter  stood  irresolute  for  a  while,  exclaiming, 
"  Peter  lost  way ;  "  then  inhaling  or  sniffing  for  a 
moment  he  said,  "  Smell  house,"  and  we  went  on 
until  I  could  go  no  farther.  Then  Peter  took  me 
up  in  liis  arms,  and  then  I  heard  Garrison  bark 
and  knew  no  more. 

When  I  came  to  my  senses  I  was  in  my  bed  and 
was  being  vigorously  rubbed  with  snow.  Peter, 
—  brave,  honest  Peter,  with  s-omething  like  a  tear 
in  his  eye,  said,  "■  He  all  right  now  !  " 


WINTER   SCENES  ON  THE  PRAIRIE.      131 

My  father  afterwards  told  me  that  Garry  had 
been  sleeping,  when  he  suddenly  roused  himself 
and  began  to  bark  and  snuff  at  the  door  ;  they  let 
him  go  and  he  had  guided  Peter  to  the  house, 
which  was  only  half  a  mile  distant  from  the  place 
where  I  had  given  out.  The  question  naturally  is 
asked,  how  did  the  dog  know  our  danger?  I 
sometimes  think  dogs  are  clairvoyant. 

The  letter,  of  which  I  have  before  spoken, 
proved  to  be  a  curious  one ;  here  is  a  copy  of 
it:  — 

Dar  Mars  Clifton, — Was  stole  and  brung  here.  I 
will  tote  back  sometime.  Aleck. 

The  letter  had  no  date,  and  the  postmark  was 
obscure. 

Mrs.  Ryan's  letter  informed  her  that  her  hus- 
band was  near  Chicago,  and  wanted  her  to  write 
to  him.  The  letter  was  dated  a  month  previous 
to  her  getting  it.  My  father  wrote  to  him,  and 
it  was  agreed  that  when  the  spring  opened  he 
should  join  his  wife  and  boy  in  their  prairie 
home. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  give  further  details  of 
our  home  life.  During  the  next  summer  our  farm 
prospered  and  we  raised  over  a  thousand  bushels 
of  wheat. 

Matt  built  a  sod  house,  ploughed  his  land  and 
raised  fair  crops,  and  anxiously  looked  for  the 
coming  of  his  father ;  but  he,  for  some  unaccount- 


132  TOM  CLIFTON. 

able  reason,  was  not  heard  from.  The  season  was 
a  very  profitable  one  for  us,  a  fact  which  Aunt 
Hitty  accounted  for  by  saying,  "  It's  because  there 
are  no  beggars  here  for  your  father  to  give  his 
money  away  to." 


FROM  PEACE   TO   WAR.  133 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FEOM   PEACE   TO    WAK. 

Five  years  have  swiftly  passed  since  the  events 
of  the  last  chapter,  and  it  is  now  April,  1861. 

A  rapid  but  quiet  change  has  taken  place  in  the 
surroundings  of  the  prairie  farm.  A  little  village 
called  Lakeview,  the  centre  of  a  farming  commu- 
nity, has  sprung  up  in  our  vicinity.  The  sod  house 
has  given  place  to  a  comfortable  two-story  dwell- 
ing, whose  broad  veranda  looks  out  upon  lake  and 
prairie. 

The  fertile  land  is  taken  up  for  farms  in  every 
direction.  On  every  side,  in  the  summer  months, 
are  waving  fields  of  grain,  that  undulate  in  the  sun- 
shine like  the  waves  of  the  sea. 

Matt's  farm  adjoins  ours  and  he  has  participated 
in  the  general  prosperity.  He  is  now  eighteen 
years  old,  and  is  considered  the  best  judge  of 
stock,  especially  horses  and  mules,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

There  is  a  mystery  about  his  father  that  is  a 
cause  of  great  sorrow  to  him.  He  had  written 
twice  of  his  intention  of  joining  his  family  in 
Minnesota,  and  yet  had  not  made  his  appearance 
nor  been  heard  from  for  months. 


134  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Of  Aleck  we  had  heard  nothing,  except  the  un- 
intelligible note,  a  copy  of  which  was  given  in  the 
preceding  chapter. 

My  father  had  been  one  of  the  republican  elect- 
ors of  the  State,  in  the  election  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, and  is  known  for  miles  around  as  a  man  of 
whom  his  neighbors  say,  "He  would  rather  do  a 
man  a  kindness  than  eat  his  own  dinner !  " 

Aunt  Hitty  says,  in  answer  to  the  question  of  a 
neighbor,  "  Yes  ;  William  Clifton  is  forehanded,  — 
rich,  in  spite  of  himself ;  for  goodness  knows,  the 
man  is  just  as  ready  to  give  away  his  head  as  he 
ever  was ! ' 

"  An'  sure,  mum,"  says  Mrs.  Ryan,  who  has  hap- 
pened in  just  before  dinner,  to  borrow  some  milk- 
pans,  "  Mr.  Clifton  has  been  a  blessing  to  many  a 
poor  person,  and  why  shouldn't  he  get  a  blessing 
widitall?" 

"Well,  yes,"  said  my  aunt;  "I  do  believe  that 
the  good  God  does  sometimes  take  care  of  people 
who  won't  take  care  of  themselves !  When  that 
man  had  a  school  in  the  old  house  (so  we  desig- 
nated the  sod  house),  he  took  everybody  that  came 
along,  and  didn't  charge  a  cent  to  Tom,  Dick,  or 
Harry." 

"  Nor  Matt  either,"  said  Matt,  coming  into  the 
sitting-room,  and  bowing  with  mock  humility  to 
my  aunt.  "  I  remember  we  all  thought  that  when 
he  got  the  school  money  allowed  by  the  county,  he 
should  have  paid  himself  for  his  time  and  money ; 


FROM  PEACE   TO    WAR.  135 

but  instead  he  put  another  hundred  dollars  with  it, 
and  built  the  new  schoolhouse,  and  you  said, '  Now 
that  man  is  crazy.'  But  people  for  that  very 
reason  began  to  settle  here,  because  their  children 
could  go  to  church  and  school." 

"  Now,  Matthew,"  said  my  aunt  (who  always 
called  him  Matthew  when  she  wished  to  be  very 
emphatic,  or  was  displeased),  "  of  course  everything 
Mr.  Clifton  does  is  right  in  your  eyes,  because  he 
lets  you  do  as  you  please.  But  if  I\i  a  been 
William  Clifton,  I'd  a  converted  yer  into  a  Prot- 
estant or  skinned  yer  alive  ;  and  instid  of  that,  he 
lets  that  Catholic  priest  come  to  confess  yer  —  folks, 
too,  who  are  too  good  to  hear  Mr.  Clifton  preach. 
An'  that  man  can't  preach  without  his  shirt  out- 
side his  trousers,  either ! "  she  continued,  taking  a 
big  pinch  of  snuff,  and  turning  on  Matt  as  if  for 
a  challenge. 

"  Yes,  it's  true,  God  bless  him  !  Mr.  Clifton  is 
too  big  hearted.  He  has  made  me  what  I  am, 
and,"  with  just  the  suspicion  of  a  tear  in  Matt's 
eloquent  Irish  eyes,  "  I  know  there's  no  better 
man  living  than  he  !  " 

"There's  Pete,"  continued  Matt,  but  my  aunt 
interrupted  him,  with  "  Well,  what's  the  matter 
with  Peter  ?  Mr.  Clifton  learned  him  to  read  and 
write,  and  I  don't  think  the  man  has  drank  a  drop 
since  he  came  near  freezing  yer  to  death  on  the 
prairie !  "  Then  turning  again  to  Matt,  she  asked, 
"What  have  you  got  against  Peter?     He's  a  good 


136  TOM  CLIFTON. 

creature  as  ever  lived !  though  they  do  say  he 
leaves  off  right  in  harvest  time  to  go  hunting  !  — • 
sort  o'  shiftless  like !  Come,  Matt,"  continued  my 
aunt,  mildly,  "sit  down  and  have  some  dinner 
with  us.  It  seems  like  old  times  to  have  yer  'round ; 
you  always  was  a  good  boy  !  You've  paid  for  yer 
bringin'  up,  over  and  over  agin." 

Matt  laughed  and  accepted  the  invitation ;  but 
Peter,  who  had  been  sitting  unperceived  by  the 
door,  here  arose,  his  enormous  frame  filling  the 
whole  door-way,  and  raising  his  hand  with  a  ges- 
ture peculiar  to  himself,  as  if  demanding  attention, 
said,  "Big  heart,  brother  Clifton;  look  God  for 
pay  ;  he  do  Peter  good,  and  not  want  pay ! "  Then 
standing  a  moment  silently  and  sternly,  as  if  for 
emphasis,  with  his  stately  gliding  step,  the  half- 
breed  moved  away. 

"There,"  said  Aunt  Hitty,  "you've  hurt  Peter's 
feelin's ;  and  you'd  better  stop  talkin'  and  go  to 
eatin'."  It  was  an  old  habit  of  Aunt  Hitty 's,  at- 
tributing to  others  what  she  had  done  herself. 

In  a  few  minutes  Peter  came  in,  and  took  his 
seat  at  the  table.  He  bowed  his  head  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  saying,  "  Thank  God,"  began  eating. 

"  When,"  inquired  Aunt  Hitty,  "  do  you  expect 
your  father  from  St.  Paul  ?  " 

"  Some  time  to-day,  on  the  stage  from  the  land- 
ing ;  it  is  almost  due  now,"  I  replied,  consulting 
my  watch. 

"  He's    all    politics    now,"    said    Aunt    Hitty. 


r-T.-i 


FROM  PEACE   TO   WAR.  137 

"  Talks  about  the  seceshers ;  as  if  they'd  do  any- 
thing but  threaten  !  He'd  better  attend  to  the 
seedin'." 

My  sister  Bess,  after  receiving  attentions  from 
both  Lieutenants  Arclier  and  Preston,  was  at  that 
time  engaged  to  Preston,  who  was  quartered  at 
Fort  Snelling.  He  was  a  dashing  young  officer, 
whom  we  all  liked  and  admired,  although  his  politi- 
cal opinions  were  not  in  accordance  with  ours.  It 
was  well  known  that  Lieutenant  Preston  was  a 
Southern  man  by  birth,  and  the  only  disagreement 
which  had  occurred  between  Bess  and  her  lover 
was  on  politics  and  the  slavery  question.  My 
father  had  also  had  several  talks  with  Preston ; 
and  although  their  conversation  was  courteous,  it 
was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  they  could  not  view 
the  subject  of  slavery  from  the  same  standpoint. 

We  were  hardly  through  dinner  when  my  father 
walked  into  the  dining-room,  having  just  arrived 
by  the  mail  stage.  I  knew  by  his  face  that  some- 
thing unusual  had  occurred. 

''  What's  the  matter,  papa  ?  "  inquired  Bess. 

There  was  a  gray,  ashen  look  on  his  face  as  if 
his  mind  was  agitated  by  some  great  anxiety. 

"  For  the  land  sakes,  William,  what  is  it  ?  Is 
your  brother  John  dead  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Hitty  with 
something  like  hysterics  in  her  tone. 

My  father,  who  was  not  without  a  sense  of 
humor,  smiled  and  said,  "  I  ought  not  to  alarm 
you  with  my  worried  looks,  but  the  South  Carolina 


138  rOM  CLIFTON. 

rebels  have  fired  on  Fort  Sumter.  Here,  my 
child,"  said  he  to  Bess,  "is  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Preston.  I  am  afraid  he  is  determined  to  side 
with  the  South  and  to  resign  his  commission.  He 
says  he  cannot  raise  his  hand  against  his  native 
State,  and  if  he  fights  he  must  fight  with  his  own 
people." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Aunt  Hitty  contemptuously,  "  I 
thought  some  one  was  dead." 

My  sister  read  her  letter  with  pallid  face,  and  in 
another  moment  sank  fainting  to  the  floor.  Upon 
recovering,  she  said,  "  Lieutenant  Preston  did  not 
tell  you  all.  He  leaves  for  the  South,  and  will 
enter  the  service  of  his  native  State  at  once." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Aunt  Hitty,  "  I  thought  for  sure 
he'd  killed  some  one  !  " 

"  It  means  more  than  death  to  many,"  said  my 
father,  solemnly  and  reproachfully  ;  "  it  means  civil 
war,  which  may  come  near  our  homes,  for  we  shall 
have  to  wrestle  here  in  the  West  for  the  pos- 
session of  the  Mississippi.  There's  great  excite- 
ment in  St.  Paul  and  all  over  the  land.  They've 
begun  recruiting  in  all  the  towns  around  already." 

It  was  the  19th  of  April,  which  shows  that  in 
our  new  State  news  travelled  slowly,  for  it  was 
only  the  year  previous  (1860)  that  St.  Paul 
had  railroad  and  telegraphic  communication  with 
Chicago  and  other  points  East. 

That  evening  my  father  read  aloud  the  papers 
which  gave   full   details   of   the   attack   on   Fort 


FROM  PEACE   TO    WAR.  139 

Sumter  and  its  surrender  on  the  15tli  of  April, 
1861. 

"  I  fear,"  said  my  father,  "  that  it  is  but  the 
beginning  of  a  long  civil  war." 

We  sat  talking  it  over,  when  Peter,  who  had 
taken  no  part  in  the  conversation,  said  as  he  got 
up  to  go  to  his  own  house,  "  War  comes,  I  go  and 
fight  for  this  country.     Peter  knows  how  fight !  " 

"It  has  got  to  come  to  that,"  said  my  father 
thoughtfully.  "  All  good  men  must  now  stand 
up  for  their  country.  I  hope  the  freedom  of  the 
slaves  may  be  an  outcome  of  this ;  for  war  has 
come  and  maybe  it  will  be  at  our  very  doors. 
Civil  wars  are  more  dreadful  in  their  intensified 
passions  than  any  other.  We  must  give  liberally 
meanwhile,  of  all  that  we  have,  to  sustain  the 
Union  of  States." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Aunt  Hitty,  "  that's  the 
first  thing  you  will  think  of!  You  are  givin' 
your  house-lots  away  now,  when  you  might  sell 
'em.  If  you  could  find  a  good  excuse  you'd  give 
your  horses  away,  and  go  afoot,  and  let  the  seedin' 
go  to  the  dogs." 

My  father  mused  a  moment  in  his  most  abstracted 
manner,  and  finally  replied,  "  Certainly,  Mehit- 
able,  if  the  government  needs  them.  I  never 
thought  of  it  before.  I'll  write  about  it  to  the 
Governor  and  see  if  they  would  be  acceptable." 

The  news  of  the  war  continued  to  be  a  staple  of 
conversation.     In  our  settlement  there  were  many 


140  TOM  CLIFTON. 

views  expressed.  Many  thought  the  war  would 
amount  to  but  little.  Sam  Ryder  (my  aunt's 
nephew),  who  was  clerk  in  the  store,  said,  "  Well, 
now  I  tell  you,  I've  been  down  there  in  Charleston, 
and  know  'em:  they  don't  care  about  fightin', 
they're  too  lazy." 

"Now,  see  here,  Sam,"  said  my  big  brother-in- 
law,  Jonathan  Atkins,  who  had  taken  up  a  farm 
near  us,  "  I've  run  a  vessel  between  Savannah  and 
Boston  for  years,  and  I  know  these  Southern  fellows 
right  well.  They're  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  you 
might  as  well  try  to  back  down  your  mainmast  as 
one  of  them  chaps  when  they've  got  all  sails  set. 
Yes,  they  are  lazy,  but  there's  no  man  so  stubborn 
as  a  proud  man.  I  tell  you  they'd  fight  after  they 
got  into  it ;  and  they'll  get  into  it,  because  they'll 
egg  each  other  on  !  It's  a  point  of  honor,  as  they 
say,  never  to  back  down." 

"  Wall,  now,  stranger,"  said  a  Missourian,  the 
poorest  man  in  the  settlement,  "  you  Yanks  have 
just  kicked  u]d  this  row  because  you  won't  let  our 
niggers  alone.  You've  been  meddlin'  with  'em 
too  much." 

"Will  you  please  tell  us,"  said  Matt,  "how 
many  niggers  you  own  ?" 

The  lank  Missourian  wrathfully  reached  for 
Matt,  who  laughingly  fled  out  of  the  back  door. 

It  was  the  last  of  July  when  the  news  of  the 
stunning  defeat  of  the  Union  army  at  Bull  Run, 
which   had   vibrated    through  the  North    like  an 


FROM  PEACE   TO    WAR.  141 

electric  shock,  finally  reached  our  little  settlement. 
Up  to  that  time  it  had  not  been  seriously  believed 
that  there  would  be  war.  My  father's  opinion 
was  an  exception  to  this  otherwise  general  feeling. 
The  sad  forebodings  which  from  the  first  had 
alarmed  him,  had  now  been  realized  in  this  terri- 
ble defeat  of  the  national  troops. 

"Thank  God!"  said  my  father,  "President 
Lincoln  has  shown  no  weakness ;  with  treason 
surrounding  him  on  every  side,  he  has  been  firm 
but  tolerant,  wise,  and  charitable." 

Looking  back  to-day  over  the  past,  we  can 
see  that  while  the  terrible  defeat  at  Bull  Run 
demonstrated  the  inexperience  and  want  of  disci- 
pline among  our  citizen  soldiers,  it  also  proved 
that  our  Northern  men  possessed  that  manly  tem- 
perament which  gathered  strength  from  adversity, 
and  that  indomitable  constancy  which,  after 
bloody  defeats  and  vexatious  delays,  brought  us 
final  victory  and  the  restoration  of  the  Union,  and 
gave  freedom  to  all  under  one  flag.  The  defeat 
at  Bull  Run  taught  our  people  that  it  was  not 
sufficient  to  have  placed  seventy-five  thousand 
men  in  the  field,  but  that  it  was  necessary  to  aid 
patiently  in  converting  them  by  discipline  into 
soldiers. 

During  the  week,  while  the  news  of  Bull  Run 
was  the  topic  of  conversation,  we  had  a  visit  from 
Captain  Archer,  formerly  stationed  at  the  military 
post  above   us.     He  told  us  that  he  had  applied 


142  TOM  CLIFTON. 

for  leave  of  absence  to  accept  a  commission  as 
colonel  in  an  Iljinois  regiment. 

I  then  asked  my  father  for  the  first  time  to 
allow  me  to  enlist  in  that  regiment. 

Aunt  Mehitable  was  very  wrathful.  "Now," 
said  she,  "you  see  the  result  of  your  teachin's, 
William  !  There's  that  harum  scarum  boy  wants 
to  go  to  war,  and  he'll  get  killed  if  he  goes, 
quicker  than  scat,  he's  so  reckless." 

My  father  looked  pained,  but  said,  "  We  must 
sacrifice  much  for  our  country,  although  I  don't 
feel  very  willing,  I  confess.  I  find  myself,"  he  said, 
with  the  simplicity  so  marked  in  his  character, 
"  not  so  willing  to  give  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood 
as  to  counsel  others  to  give  of  theirs.  I  will  let 
you  know  to-morrow,  my  son." 

There  was  something  inexpressibly  tender  in  my 
aunt's  manner  as  she  saw  in  my  father's  face  the 
struggle  between  desire  and  duty. 

She  went  to  him  as  if  to  show  her  sympathy, 
and  in  an  undertone  said,  "  If  you  give  all  of 
your  horses  and  some  of  your  money  to  help  the 
government,  William,  I  guess  it  will  be  all  the 
dear  Lord  requires  of  you  at  first ;  "  and  then,  as  if 
ashamed  of  having  shown  her  feelings,  she  bus- 
tled about  her  household  work,  addressing  a  sharp 
word  of  reproof  whenever  she  had  a  chance. 
"  Tom,  you  didn't  half  milk  the  cows  to-night. 
You  are  gettin'  too  careless  for  anything !  Peter, 
if  you  don't  bring  in  more  wood  I  can't  cook  your 


FROM  PEACE   TO   WAR.  143 

victuals.  You  seem  to  expect  me  to  do  every 
thing."  We  all  understood  these  explosive  re- 
marks, emphasized  by  hurried  pinches  of  snuff. 

"  Perhaps,  Mr.  Clifton,"  said  Captain  Archer,  "  it 
will  be  a  short  war,  and  in  that  case  Tom  would 
very  much  regret  not  to  have  in  some  way  par- 
ticipated in  it.  You'd  better  let  him  go  down  to 
the  Fort  with  me  and  study  the  tactics,  so  that 
he  may  be  qualified  for  something  better  than  the 
position  of  a  private.  The  great  want  in  this  war 
will  be  men  who  understand  military  affairs.  It 
is  a  trade :  the  A  B  C  of  the  trade  is  the  manual 
of  arms ;  the  simple  sentences,  company  drill ;  the 
plain  reading,  company  evolutions ;  the  more  in- 
tricate education  is  knowledge  of  regimental  drill. 
The  ability  to  give  orders,  and  to  have  them  ex- 
ecuted properly  under  fire,  without  confusion,  is 
the  higher  art  of  a  military  commander." 

"These  fellers,"  said  Sam  Ryder,  referring  to  the 
Southerners,  "  will  know  they  are  wrong ;  know 
they're  fightin'  aginst  the  flag  of  their  fathers, 
and  they  won't  have  the  conscience  to  go  on 
fightin.'  Their  consciences  '11  trouble  'em  so  they 
won't  have  no  heart  in  the  fight." 

Peter,  who  had  been  listening,  as  was  his  cus- 
tom, without  remark,  turned  his  grave  and  steady 
look  upon  my  cousin,  and  said,  "  Bad  men  fight 
best ;  good  men  too  soft  for  hate.  Bears  fight 
better  than  deers." 


144  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Maybe  so,"  said  Sam  Ryder,  "•  but  when  I  feel 
that  I'm  right,  it  takes  a  'nation  lot  to  scare 
me." 

Peter  made  no  reply ;  but  Matt,  in  imitation  of 
him,  slyly  said,  "  Sam  Ryder  bad  man,  fight  good, 
'cause  get  mad  sure :  stay  mad." 

We  all  laughed  but  Peter,  who  walked  gravely 
up  to  my  father,  and,  placing  his  hand  lightly 
on  his  shoulder,  said,"  Big  heart  brother ;  Peter 
go  to  war,  Tom  stay  home,"  and  with  his  stately 
gliding  step  went  out  without  waiting  for  a 
reply. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  my  father  said, 
"  You  can  go  with  Captain  Archer  and  learn  the 
ways  of  soldiers.  Perhaps  I  can  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  do  my  duty  finally.  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  when  Peter  offered  to  go  in  your  place  I  felt 
rejoiced  and  wished  to  accept.  But  what  are  you 
or  I  better  in  the  sight  of  God  than  he?  It  is 
easier  to  give  your  brother's  children,  or  your  neigh- 
bor's goods,  than  your  own,  but  it  is  not  better ! 
I  have  preached  all  my  life,  now  I  will  practise  what 
I  have  preached,  or  at  least  try  to." 

The  tarry  of  Captain  Archer  at  our  home  was 
short;  and  Avhen  he  returned  to  Fort  Snelling  I 
accompanied  him,  and  there  remained  while  he 
awaited  the  expected  orders  which  would  assign 
him  to  duty  in  the  volunteers. 

Aunt  Hitty  at  my  leaving  burst   into  a  tirade 


FROM  PEACE   TO   WAR.  145 

against  the  war  and  soldiering ;  but  afterwards,  as 
if  ashamed  of  being  so  demonstrative,  said,  "  The 
land  knows  your  father  has  had  a  hard  time  enough 
to  let  Tom  go  without  the  rest  of  you  pestering 
the  man  about  it !     Why  can't  you  let  him  alone  ?  " 


146  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LEARNING   TO   BE    A    SOLDIER. 

The  order  so  anxiously  awaited  assigning  Cap- 
tain Archer  to  duty  in  the  volunteers  did  not  come 
so  soon  as  he  expected. 

The  action  of  the  government  in  throwing  obsta- 
cles in  the  way  of  the  acceptance  by  regular 
officers  of  volunteer  positions  has  never,  to  my 
knowledge,  been  satisfactorily  explained. 

The  theory  of  the  Military  Academy  at  West 
Point  from  its  foundation  has  been  to  keep  alive 
a  ready  j^ractical  acquaintance  with  military  sub- 
jects, that  it  may  be  imparted,  when  emergencies 
arise,  to  volunteer  armies,  since  volunteer  organi- 
zations were  the  country's  only  real  defence  in 
case  of  serious  war. 

Like  a  master  mechanic  who  keeps  on  hand 
sample  machines  which  can  be  duplicated  when 
there  is  need  of  them,  so  the  regular  army  may 
be  said  to  furnish  models  and  master  mechanics  for 
the  control  and  instruction  of  volunteers.  Yet  the 
opposite  was  the  practice  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
rebellion,  and  regular  officers  were  given  volunteer 
duty  only  upon  the  strong  appeal  of  personal  friends. 


LEARNING   TO  BE  A   SOLDIER.  147 

General  Scott  is  represented  as  saying  that  "  the 
regular  army  must  be  kept  intact  to  fall  back 
upon  if  the  volunteers  fail."  This  showed  such 
an  utter  want  of  appreciation  of  the  vital  strength 
of  the  country,  as  to  be  a  matter  of  astonishment 
to  all  thoughtful  minds. 

I  now  believe  that  if  at  the  beginning  of  the 
civil  war,  the  regular  army  had  been  disbanded 
as  a  field  organization,  and  its  commissioned  and 
non-commissioned  officers  and  trained  soldiers  had 
been  encouraged  to  take  positions  among  the  vol- 
unteer organizations,  greater  efficiency  of  the  vol- 
unteers and  usefulness  of  the  regulars  would  have 
been  attained. 

I  am  not,  however,  writing  a  treatise  on  the  use 
of  the  regular  army  in  times  of  war,  but  a  true 
narrative  of  events  in  which  I  bore  a  humble  part. 

While  Captain  Archer  was  impatiently  awaiting 
the  order  assigning  him  to  active  duty  with  the 
Illinois  volunteers,  I  rambled  around  the  Fort, 
with  Garry  at  my  heels,  in  pursuit  (as  I  believed) 
of  military  knowledge,  but,  as  an  old  ordnance  ser- 
geant of  the  Fort  declared,  "  bedeviling  everything 
I  touched." 

I  removed  the  tompions  from  the  guns  to  look 
into  their  muzzles,  to  see  how  they  were  made,  and 
forgot  to  put  them  back  again. 

I  was  also  in  constant  danger  of  becoming  a 
nuisance  by  relapsing  into  a  habit  of  playing  prac- 
tical jokes,  for  idleness  is  a  great  promoter  of  mis- 


148  TOM  CLIFTON. 

chief.  Perhaps  these  antics  showed,  as  my  big 
brother-in-law  Jonathan  had  often  said,  that  I 
needed  to  be  heavily  ballasted  with  work. 

Whether  similar  thoughts  lurked  in  Captain 
Archer's  mind,  I  do  not  know ;  but  he  soon  sum- 
moned me  to  his  quarters  and  proposed  that  while 
he  was  awaiting  the  action  of  the  War  Depart- 
ment, I  should  either  return  to  my  home  or  begin  a 
course  of  study  and  instruction  in  infantry  tactics. 
I  chose  the  latter  course. 

He  furnished  an  instructor  and  loaned  me 
Hardee's  tactics  on  infantry  drill,  which,  he  said, 
would,  beyond  a  doubt,  be  generally  used  in  the 
army. 

I  readily  accepted  his  propositions,  for  I  foresaw 
that  it  was  my  best  chance  to  get  into  the  army 
with  my  father's  consent.  I  was  the  more  impelled 
to  this,  for  Captain  Archer's  cold  and  stern  manner 
conveyed  a  command,  and  impressed  me  as  his 
usual  cordial  and  pleasant  manner  would  not  have 
done. 

Captain  Archer's  sister,  who  was  visiting  at  the 
post,  must  have  seen  that  this  cut  me,  for  she 
comforted  me  by  saying,  "  That  is  his  way  to  every 
one  in  the  army,  especially  when  he  wishes  to  be 
obeyed." 

That  very  evening  I  took  with  me  to  my  board- 
ing-place outside  the  fort  a  copy  of  Hardee's 
tactics,  and  began  the  study  of  them  in  what  I 
conceived  to  be  the  proper  way. 


LEARNING   TO  BE  A   SOLDIER.  149 

I  found  that  I  could  more  readily  learn  and 
repeat  the  portions  that  had  been  given  me  for  a 
lesson  than  I  could  understand  their  practical  im- 
port or  utility.  The  book  seemed  to  me  a  sense- 
less jumble  of  details,  of  no  earthly  use  except  to 
deprive  one  of  his  senses  and  substitute  therefore 
a  sort  of  automatic  action. 

"  Can't  a  man  fight  without  all  this  nonsensical 
rigmarole  ?  "  I  asked  Captain  Archer,  in  a  dis- 
gusted, querulous  tone. 

"  Yes,"  he  gravely  replied,  "  a  man  can  fight 
when  he  is  only  his  own  commander  and  tactician, 
but  when  a  hundred  or  a  thousand  men  fight 
together,  they  must  be  able  to  obey  a  single  mind, 
in  order  to  act  in  unison.  The  use  of  these  tactics 
is  to  drill  men  so  that  a  body  of  them  can  act  as 
effectively  together  as  can  one  man  separately. 
These  tactics  are  to  a  company  of  a  hundred  or 
more  men  what  heat  is  to  a  mass  of  iron  —  it  fuses 
them  solidly  together,  and  causes  in  them  unity  of 
action  in  obeying  commands.  Our  army  is  a  great 
machine,  of  which  the  private  soldiers  and  their 
officers  all  form  a  part ;  and  these  parts  must  work 
together,  ^t  the  word  of  command,  without  discus- 
sion or  hesitation.  This  is  so  that  the  combined 
action  of  an  army  may  overthrow  its  enemy.  The 
best  way  to  see  the  purposes  of  these  lessons  you 
have  been  learning  is  to  get  some  one  to  teach 
them  to  you  practically." 

So  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  procure  for  me 


150  TOM  CLIFTON. 

a  drill-master,  whom  I  was  to  pay  to  instruct  me 
in  infantry  tactics. 

The  next  morning  I  was  introduced  to  my  in- 
structor. He  was  a  stiff  old  regular,  as  straight  as 
a  ramrod,  and  who,  in  the  presence  of  his  superiors, 
was  silent,  unless  asked  a  question. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  undertake  the  instruction 
of  this  young  man  ?  "  inquired  Captain  Archer. 

"  Yes,  if  he  will  obey  just  as  if  he  was  an  ordi- 
nary recruit." 

"You  are  to  have  full  power  in  that  respect. 
You  are  willing  to  agree  to  this,  are  you  not,  Mr. 
Clifton  ?  "  I  assented,  and  other  details  were  soon 
arranged. 

The  next  morning  found  me  in  company  with 
my  instructor,  in  a  secluded  spot  near  the  fort, 
dressed  in  an  army  blouse,  and  equipped  with  belt, 
cap,  and  cartridge-box,  and  a  Springfield  musket. 

"  Now,"  said  the  old  regular,  taking  my  musket 
from  my  hand  and  leaning  it  against  the  fort, 
"take  the  first  position  of  a  soldier."  With  my 
feet  wide  apart,  I  threw  back  my  shoulders,  pro- 
truded my  stomach,  and  stood  with  the  weight  of 
my  body  resting  on  my  heels. 

"  All  wrong !  "  said  the  regular,  shaking  his 
head.  "I'll  repeat  the  first  position  of  a  soldier, 
as  it  is  laid  down  in  the  tactics.  Heels  equally 
on  the  same  line ;  toes  turning  equally  outward  ; 
knees  straight,  without  stiffness ;  hands  hanging 
naturally  by  the  side,  with  the  palms  turned  out- 


LEARNING   TO  BE  A   SOLDIER.  151 

ward ;  little  finger  of  the  right  hand  in  the  rear 
of  the  seam  of  the  pants,  the  weight  of  the  body 
resting  lightly  upon  the  soles  of  the  feet;  head 
natural,  chin  on  line  of  the  stock,  and  eyes  striking 
the  ground,  twenty  paces  to  the  front." 

At  the  repetition  of  each  of  these  chunks  of 
military  exactions,  the  position  of  my  head,  hands, 
feet,  chin,  and  stomach  were  corrected  with  a 
severity  that  made  me  wince. 

It  took  one  hour  of  time,  most  of  my  patience, 
and  tried  my  muscles  sorely,  before  I  could  suit 
his  tyrannical  majesty,  Private  Delaney,  in  taking 
this  first  position  of  a  soldier,  as  laid  down  by 
Hardee. 

Then  came  the  facings  —  "  right  face,"  "  left  face," 
"right  about  face."  Then  marching  and  execut- 
ing these.  But  my  marching  didn't  suit  Private 
Delaney.  "  You  occupy  more  room  than  two  sets 
of  four  should.  You  must  depress  your  toes,  and 
step  on  the  ball  of  your  foot,  and  not  the  heel." 

And  then  he  stood  me  on  one  leg,  and  made  me 
swing  my  foot,  depressing  the  toe  when  it  swung 
forward,  and  the  heel  when  it  came  back.  In  this 
manner  he  kept  me  standing,  first  on  one  leg  and 
then  on  the  other,  for  half  an  hour ;  and  when  I 
failed  to  suit  him  in  marching,  he  put  me  on  one 
leg,  and  set  me  to  swinging  my  foot  again. 

All  this  time  not  a  smile  or  a  word  of  conversa- 
tion or  encouragement  could  be  coaxed  from  him. 

When  Private  Delaney  was  through  with  me,  I 


152  TOM  CLIFTON. 

was  humiliated  in  spirit  and  sore  in  muscle ;  and 
the  military  spirit  within  me  had  burned  so  low 
that  there  was  scarcely  a  spark  left.  But  I  deter- 
mined to  put  up  with  tlie  "  rigmarole  "  a  few  days 
longer,  and  then,  if  I  did  not  like  it  any  better,  to 
leave  military  things  thereafter  to  some  one  with 
more  humility  of  spirit  and  machine-like  docility. 

The  afternoon  lesson  was  a  repetition  of  the 
forenoon.  I  was  marched  and  counter-marched, 
faced  about  right  and  left,  and  made  to  stand  on 
one  foot  and  swing  the  other,  like  a  West  Point 
cadet.  I  was  so  constantly  told  to  "  draw  my  stom- 
ach in,"  that  I  was  in  danger  of  losing  my  temper, 
if  not  my  mind. 

At  the  exjDiration  of  my  last  two  hours'  drill,  I 
hardly  knew  myself,  I  was  so  lowly  in  spirit,  and 
so  humble  in  my  opinion  of  my  military  merits.  I 
was  too  tired  for  further  exercise,  and  throwing 
myself  on  a  couch,  I  slept  until  nearly  dark. 

I  must  have  conveyed  something  of  the  condi- 
tion of  my  mind  and  body,  when,  in  the  evening,  I 
called  at  Captain  Archer's  quarters,  for  an  amused 
smile  lurked  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  as  he 
inquired,  "  How  do  you  like  the  drill,  Clifton  ?  " 

I  gave  him  a  history  of  the  afternoon's  drill,  with 
some  of  my  reflections  thereon,  when  both  his  sis- 
ter and  he  laughed  immoderately. 

"  I  don't  think  you  would  laugh  had  you  been 
in  my  place,"  I  said,  somewhat  testily. 

"  Private  Delaney  is  one  of  the  best  drills  in  the 


LEARNING   TO  BE  A   SOLDIER.  153 

service.  If  it  was  not  for  drink,  he  might  hold 
any  non-commissioned  position  in  the  army  with 
credit.  When  I  entered  West  Point,  he  was  a 
member  of  Co.  A  of  the  U.  S.  Engineers,  and  he 
taught  me  my  facings  and  drill,  just  as  he  has  been 
teaching  you." 

"  Did  you  stand  on  one  foot,  like  this  ?  "  said  I, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 

"  Yes,  and  as  needless  as  I  thought  it,  I  now  know 
that  it  is  a  very  essential  part  of  marching,  for 
it  gives  such  steadiness  to  the  body  that  there 
is  no  jostling  of  each  other  by  the  men  of  a 
marching  column." 

That  evening,  when  I  left  Captain  Archer's 
quarters,  it  was  with  the  determination  that  I 
would  allow  Private  Delaney  to  run  me  a  while 
longer  as  a  military  machine ;  for  certainly  if 
Captain  Ai'cher  had  come  out  of  it  alive,  after 
five  years  of  exacting  drill,  I  was  not  going  to 
show  the  "  white  feather "  over  four  or  five  days 
of  it. 

After  I  had  been  drilled  for  about  a  week  in 
my  facings,  in  the  manual  of  arms,  in  marching, 
and  in  bayonet  drill,  the  Captain  came  to  inspect 
my  performance.  After  giving  the  words  of  com- 
mand and  putting  me  through  the  drill,  he  said, 
addressing  Private  Delaney,  who  stood  at  attention 
and   saluted,  — 

"  Very  good  ;  your  pupil  does  you  justice.  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and, "  saluting,  "  a  very  pretty  piece 
of  drill  for  a  raw  recruit,  sir, "  said  Delaney. 


154  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"That  will  do,  Private  Delaney. "  The  old 
soldier  saluted,  came  to  a  right  face,  and  marched 
stiffly  away  to  his  quarters. 

With  the  exception  of  an  occasional  hour  or 
two  to  keep  in  practice,  this  ended  my  instruction 
under  the  old  drill-master. 

I  learned  the  company  movements,  or  at  least 
all  that  could  he  learned  without  practical  inter- 
pretation, and  recited  them  to  Captain  Archer, 
He  was  pleased  to  express  satisfaction  at  my 
progress,  and  he  explained  to  me  all  movements, 
so  that  I  understood  them  and  their  purpose. 

A  letter  from  my  father  informed  Ca})taiii  Archer 
that  a  squad  of  twenty  men  had  been  formed  in 
Lakeview  for  military  drill,  and  also  asked  him  if  he 
could  get  several  copies  of  the  tactics  to  assist  them 
in  drilling.  As  the  expected  order  assigning  him  to 
duty  in  the  volunteers  did  not  come,  Captain 
Archer  thought  I  might,  on  my  return  home, 
practise  m}^  lessons  with  good  effect  on  the  twenty 
aspirants  for  military  glory  at  Lakeview.  "  Perhaps 
you  can  recruit  enough  of  them  for  the  — th 
Illinois,  so  that  when  I  am  assigned  to  duty,  I 
can  get  you  a  commission,  or  at  least  get  you  a 
sergeant's  billet  and  put  you  in  line  of  promotion, 
as  you  may  deserve." 

As  I  passed  through  St.  Paul  on  my  way  home, 
I  found  that  the  people  talked  of  nothing  but  the 
war. 

My  Uncle  John  had  caught  the  fever,  and  was 


LEARNING    TO  BE  A    SOLDIER.  155 

very  much  interested  in  military  affairs.  He  was 
raising  a  company  of  men,  and  said  he  had  no 
doubt  that  he  could  secure  me  a  commission  with 
them  if  I  would  enlist.  I  had  promised  Captain 
Archer  before  leaving  Fort  Snelling  that  I  would 
not  enlist  without  consulting  him.  The  war  excite- 
ment, however,  in  St.  Paul  was  so  intense  that  I 
was  almost  carried  off  my  feet  by  it,  my  desire  to 
enlist  was  so  great. 

At  last  I  reached  home  and  was  glad  enough 
to  see  my  father  and  Bess  and  Aunt  Hitty  once 
more. 

I  at  once  began  drilling  the  military  aspirants 
at  Lakewood ;  for  harvesting  was  over  and  they 
had  leisure  for  this  recreation. 

My  cousin  Sam  Ryder  wished  to  be  possessed 
of  all  my  military  knowledge  at  once,  and  he  with 
Matt  and  Peter,  were  my  first  pupils. 

I  cannot  even  now  repress  a  smile  of  amusement 
at  thinking  how  much  more  severe  I  was  with 
my  pupils  than  Private  Delaney  had  been  with  me. 

Sam  questioned  the  utility  of  my  exactions  and 
said,  "  Now,  see  here,  Tom,  this  little  finger  in 
the  rear  of  the  seam  of  the  pants  don't  seem  to 
me  to  be  of  a  thunderin'  bit  of  use. " 

When  I  set  them  all  to  swinging  one  foot,  and 
depressing  the  heel  and  toe  while  standing  on  the 
other,  Sam  came  out  in  open  rebellion. 

"  Say,  Tom,  what  gol-dang  nonsense  are  you 
givin'   us !   staudiu'  a   feller   on   one   foot   like  a 


156  TOM  CLIFTON. 

sand-hill  crane  gone  to  sleep,  and  makin'  him 
swing  '  totlier.  " 

"  What  orders  should  be  given?  "  I  inquired  tartly. 

"  Why, "  said  Sam  gravely  with  an  oratorical 
flourish,  "  shoot  the  enemy  whenever  found ;  and 
never  let  up  on  'em." 

Matt  laughed  and  said,  as  if  bound  to  sustain 
my  authority  although  my  drill  had  made  him 
wince^  "  Sam,  you  couldn't  hit  a  barn-door  with 
a  rifle  if  you  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  it." 

"  Knees  straight  without  stiffness  I "  yelled  Sam, 
after  I  had  severely  drilled  him  for  an  hour.  "  I'd 
like  to  know  how  a  feller  can  help  bein' 
stiff  after  all  that  coiisarned  tread-mill  business  — 
Tweedle-dee    and    tweedle-dum.      It's    thunderin' 


nonsense 


If  my  recruits  learned  nothing,  I,  at  least,  learned 
to  practise  that  which  I  had  committed  to  memory 
and  learned  in  theory.  I  was  zealous  to  convey 
to  others  the  disgust  I  had  at  first  conceived  for 
military  things,  knowing  from  my  own  experience 
that  they  would  put  into  practice  the  lessons  at 
the  first  opportunity  offered,  and  make  some  one 
else  take  the  bitter  pills  of  drill. 

I  suppose  the  first  soldier  (whoever  he  was) 
that  submitted  himself  to  the  vexatious  routine 
of  military  drill  thought  it  needless,  as  all  others 
to  the  end  of  time  will.  It  is  useless  to  theorize 
to  men  on  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  exact- 
ness in  little  details,  for  nothing  but  actual  experi- 
ence can  demonstrate  their  utility. 


LEARNING   TO  BE  A   SOLDIER.  157 

I  Imve  noticed  that  although  men  do  not  at  first 
submit  very  gracefully  to  being  made  over  into  the 
machine  known  as  a  soldier,  they  finally  take  pride 
in  the  acquirements  which  they  at  first  thought 
needless. 

When  I  had  been  at  home  nearly  two  weeks,  I 
received  a  letter  from  Captain  Archer,  requesting 
me  to  join  him,  as  he  had  at  last  received  the 
order  assigning  him  to  duty  in  his  native  state,  as 
a  colonel  of  the  — th  Illinois  regiment  of  Infantry. 
After  visiting  his  family,  he  intended  reporting 
for  duty  at  once. 

Peter  insisted  on  accompanying  me  to  camp 
when  the  time  for  my  departure  came.  Matt  and 
Sam  had  duties  that  detained  them  at  home  for 
awhile. 

My  father  must,  as  I  now  know,  have  had 
many  misgivings  about  permitting  me  to  enlist. 
Aunt  Hitty  voiced  her  disapproval  by  manj^ 
characteristic  speeches,  and  then  scolded  others 
for  making  it  so  hard  for  my  father  to  let  me  do 
my  duty. 

"  I  shall  come  along  to  camp  just  as  soon  as  my 
mother  is  settled  for  the  winter  ;  and  I  must  help 
your  father,  too,  for  when  you  and  Peter  are  gone 
he  will  need  me,"  said  Matt. 


158  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

FROM    "CAMP   can't   GET   AWAY "    TO    SHILOH. 

Peter  and  I  arrived  by  steamer  at  a  thriving 
town  known  as  Corkscrew  Bend,  on  the  Mississippi 
River,  near  where  the  camp  of  the  — th  Illinois 
was  established. 

As  it  was  quite  late  in  the  evening  when  we 
arrived,  we  remained  all  night  in  town.  The  next 
morning  being  Sunday,  we  walked  out  about 
two  miles  to  "  Camp  Can't  Get  Away."  Being  in 
some  doubt  as  to  the  direction  we  should  take,  we 
asked  a  man  travelling  on  the  same  road.  He 
replied  that  he,  like  ourselves,  was  on  his  way  to 
that  camp. 

At  a  first  glance  there  was  nothing  striking  in 
the  man's  appearance  ;  in  fact,  he  seemed  a  very 
ordinary  person.  He  had  a  thin,  hatchet  face, 
brown  with  constant  exposure  to  the  wind  and 
sun ;  high  cheek-bones,  and  a  square,  massive  jaw, 
partially  concealed  by  bristle-like,  reddish-brown 
whiskers.  His  shoulders  had  a  peculiar  stoop, 
and  all  his  limbs  seemed  loose-jointed,  as  if,  like 
many  structures  we  saw  along  the  road,  they  had 
been  hastily  thrown  together.     His   conversation 


1  noticed  several  quick,  penetrating  glances  directed  towards  Peter 
by  the  stranger."  —  Page  159. 


"CAMP  CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.      159 

was  not  very  lively  —  in  fact,  it  was  extremely 
brief  and  commonplace. 

"  Are  there  many  men  at  the  camp  ?  " 

He  reflected  a  moment,  at  the  same  time  glan- 
cing over  the  fields,  as  if  it  were  a  question  of  crops, 
and  replied,  — 

"  Well ;  a  right  smart  of  'em,  I  reckon." 

"  Are  you  going  to  enlist  ?  " 

After  another  general  survey  of  the  fields,  he 
replied,  ''  No,  stranger,  I  reckon  not,"  gi^"ing  rae 
a  quick,  shrewd  glance,  as  if  gauging  my  personal 
qualities.  I  noticed  that  there  gleamed  in  his  eye 
a  fox-like  keenness,  which  in  some  way  made  me 
think  that  his  wits  were  quick  and  that  his  senses 
were  trained  by  some  very  unusual  experiences. 

All  the  time  Peter,  with  his  gliding  step,  turn- 
ing his  face  neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  apparently 
not  observing  our  companion,  silently  walked  by 
my  side.  I  noticed  several  quick,  penetrating 
glances  directed  towards  Peter  by  the  stranger, 
and  something  in  Peter's  manner  reminded  me  of 
times  with  him  in  hunting  when  he  was  watchful 
of  danger,  I  recalled  these  feelings  afterwards, 
although  at  the  time  they  left  only  a  passing 
impression  upon  me. 

We  passed  into  camp  without  further  incident. 
The  stranger  informed  me  that  the  name  of  the 
camp  had  been  given  it  because,  when  once  en- 
listed there,  it  was  found  hard  to  get  away.. 
However  difficult  it  may  have  been  originally  to 


160  TOM  CLIFTON. 

escape  from  this  camp,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  its  military  duties  were  now  very  loosely  con- 
ducted, or,  as  the  stranger  said,  that  "  Camp  Can't 
Get  Away  was  mostly  running  itself." 

The  tents  were  pitched  out  of  line ;  their  inte- 
riors, as  was  shown  by  occasional  glimpses,  were 
unclean  and  disorderly.  In  some  instances  mus- 
kets were  seen  in  front  of  the  tents,  stuck  into  the 
ground  by  the  bayonets.  The  arms  were  rusty 
and  the  uniforms  of  the  men  slovenly  ;  straw  and 
other  refuse  of  the  camp  were  scattered  around  the 
grounds  or  in  the  company  streets.  Among  the 
men  there  was  loud  talking,  laughing,  and  profan- 
ity. Some  were  met  who  were  drinking  from  each 
other's  canteens,  and  their  hilarity  suggested  a 
beverage  stronger  than  water.  Familiar  buffoonery 
was  going  on  without  much  distinction  of  rank, 
althouorh  as  to  rank  I  cannot  remember  seeing  more 
than  four  commissioned  officers  in  camp  during  the 
day.  One  of  these  was  making  a  bombastic  war 
speech  in  front  of  his  quarters  to  some  men  of 
his  company  who  had  presented  him  with  a  saddle 
horse.  Another  was  a  major,  to  whom  a  private 
exclaimed,  "  Hullo,  Maje  !  did  you  bring  me  any 
of  that  prime  whiskey  from  town  ?  " 

The  officer  addressed  wore  a  slouch  hat  on  one 
side  of  his  head,  a  white  shirt  without  a  vest,  a 
blue  coat  with  tarnished  buttons  and  major's  straps, 
and  trousers  stuck  into  the  legs  of  a  pair  of  muddy 
boots.     He  replied  to  the  private,  "No,  Fowler;  I 


"CAMP  CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.     161 

done  forgot  it !  Give  me  a  smoke  ?  "  and  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  took  a  lighted  pipe  from 
the  private's  mouth,  and  walked  away  smoking  it. 

"  That's  what  I  call  an  almighty  good  feller  ;  no 
airs  about  him ;  just  the  chap  the  fellers  are  goin' 
to  rally  around  and  fight  for,"  said  Fowler. 

The  other  officers  whom  I  met  were  two  lieuten- 
ants, from  whom  I  learned  that  there  had  been  little 
instruction  in  military  duties  ;  that  many  of  the 
men  were  absent  without  leave ;  that  none  of  them 
seemed  to  understand  the  necessity  for  strict  regu- 
lations of  any  kind ;  and  that  there  were  no  dis- 
tinctions shown  except  in  uniform.  One  of  these 
lieutenants  was  a  fine-looking  young  man  to  whom 
I  was  attracted  at  once,  and  he  afterwards  became 
captain  of  my  company. 

Greatly  to  the  prejudice  of  meritorious  men,  and 
of  the  service,  officers  at  this  time  were  appointed 
by  the  governors  for  the  number  of  men  they  were 
able  to  recruit  for  the  service  rather  than  for  any 
capacity  shown  by  them  for  the  positions. 

I  could  find  no  proper  officer  to  report  to,  and 
so  Peter  and  I  concluded  to  await  the  coming 
of  Captain  Archer,  who  was  on  a  short  visit  to 
his  friends,  before  enrolling  our  names  in  that 
regiment. 

During  the  day  we  again  encountered  the  man 
who  had  come  to  camp  with  us,  passing  around 
carelessly,  but  with  his  eyes  apparently  on  every- 
thing. Once  we  heard  him  ask  how  many  men 
there  were  in  camp. 


162  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  I've  seen  that  man  'fore,"  said  Peter. 

"  Where  ?  "  I  asked,  not  a  little  surprised. 

"  Up  Minnesota,  'mung  Injuns.  He  hunt ;  buy 
furs  ;  gamble  ;  Injuns  call  him  '  Wild  Dog,'  " 

I  afterwards  inquired  of  several  men  if  they 
knew  him,  but  could  find  no  one  that  had  ever 
seen  him  before. 

We  had  not  long  to  await  the  coming  of  Captain 
Archer.  The  next  day  he  came  into  camp  in  a  very 
unassuming  manner,  passed  around  without  mak- 
ing himself  known,  and  that  morning  the  following 
orders  were  issued  :  — 


Headquakteks,  Camp  Can't  Get  Away,  Illinois, 
September,  16,  1861. 
Regimental  Okder  No.  1. 

I.  Colonel  Edward  Archer,  — th  Illinois  Volunteer  Infantry, 
hereby  assumes  command  of  the  camp  and  regiment.  In  enter- 
ing upon  the  duties  of  organization,  I  trust  that  every  member 
of  the  regiment  fully  appreciates  the  importance  of  the  first 
principles  of  the  soldier, — obedience  to  orders,  without  which 
there  can  be  no  efficiency. 

II.  Cleanliness  is  next  in  importance,  and  captains  of  com- 
panies are  charged  with  attention  to  this.  The  company  streets 
will  be  policed  each  morning  ;  and  the  colonel  will  cause  fre- 
quent inspection  of  the  men,  with  bare  feet,  and  with  their 
shirts  unbuttoned. 

III.  The  hair  is  to  be  kept  short  ;  this  applies  to  all. 

IV.  Officers  and  men  are  required  to  appear  at  all  times  in 
uniform,  unless  on  leave  of  absence  for  longer  than  tliree  days. 

V.  No  member  of  the  regiment  will  be  permitted  to  leave 
camp,  except  on  duty,  without  authority. 

VI.  The  attention  of  the  regiment  is  called  to  those  portions 
of  the  Articles  of  War  relating  to  drunkenness  and  profanity, 


''CAMP  CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.      163 

and  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath.    No  spirituous  liquors  will 
be  allowed  in  camp. 

VII.  Hereafter  there  will  be  squad  drill  of  the  men,  by  non- 
commissioned officers,  between  two  o'clock  and  five  o'clock 
P.M.  each  day  except  Sunday.  The  field  oflicers  will  punctu- 
ally attend  all  drills. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  blustering  talk  at  first 
against  the  rigor  of  these  orders ;  but  in  less  than 
a  week  the  camp  underwent  a  salutary  change, 
which  but  for  the  intelligence  of  the  men,  who 
readily -saw  the  advantage  and  necessity  for  disci- 
pline, might  be  considered  marvellous.  The  camp 
became  orderly  and  clean,  and  was  guarded  by 
sentinels  well  informed.  • 

Squad,  company,  and  regimental  drill  had  begun, 
and  the  men  cheerfully  assumed  the  duties  of  sol- 
diers, instead  of  spending  their  time  in  inactivity, 
or  worse.  Passes  were  given  to  such  as  were 
recommended  by  their  captains  or  sergeants,  while 
strict  punishments  were  inflicted  upon  such  as 
over-stayed  passes,  or  who  infringed  military  or- 
ders. 

Peter  and  I  were  soon  enrolled  as  members  of 
the  regiment.  I  received  the  appointment  of 
lance  corporal,  which  means  that  I  held  the  posi- 
tion, but  had  no  warrant  or  billet,  but  that  I  might 
receive  the  position,  if  my  conduct  and  drill  war- 
ranted it,  thereafter. 

Peter  learned  his  drill  very  quickly.  I  was  ap- 
pointed to  drill  men  in  their  facings,  and  in  the 
manual  of  arms,  and  in  a  few  weeks  received  a 


164  TOM  CLIFTON. 

warrant  as  fourth  corporal  of  my  company,  being 
recommended  by  the  captain  for  the  position. 
Peter  was  also  made  a  corporal. 

Matt,  Sam  Ryder,  and  four  other  recruits  from 
our  settlement,  came  during  the  week,  and  it  made 
the  camp  seem  more  homelike  for  us  to  have  old 
friends  around.  They  brought  news  of  the  farm 
and  neighborhood,  and  a  letter  from  my  father. 

Matt  very  quickly  learned  the  duties  of  a  soldier, 
and  was  soon  one  of  the  strictest  martinets  of  the 
company.  He  was  very  proud  of  his  corporal's 
stripes,  which  he  had  fairly  earned  by  his  atten- 
tion to  drill  and  discipline ;  and  his  square  shoul- 
ders and  erect  military  person  made  him  the  ideal 
of  the  volunteer  soldier. 

I  think  that  in  my  whole  military  career  I  have 
never  known  a  more  enthusiastic  and  painstaking 
volunteer  soldier  than  Matthew  Ryan. 

The  colonel  took  no  more  notice  of  us  person- 
ally than  he  did  of  other  members  of  the  regiment. 
He  occasionally  sent  for  me  to  communicate  some 
home  news,  but  that  was  all. 

For  two  months  we  were  drilled  incessantly, 
until  the  raw  material  was  hammered  or  welded 
into  the  military  mass  known  as  a  regiment. 

The  amount  of  effort  devoted  to  the  study  of 
the  military  profession,  I  was  afterwards  informed 
by  Colonel  Archer,  would  be  considered  very 
unusual,  even  in  a  regular  regiment. 

Officers'  drill  (this  included  non-commissioned 


''CAMP  CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.     165 

officers)  was  conducted  by  the  colonel,  while 
squad,  company,  battalion,  bayonet,  drill  and  po- 
licing camp  occupied  the  men  continually.  Such 
rapid  progress,  or  so  much  interest,  has  seldom, 
if  ever,  been  equalled  in  a  regiment. 

Officers  not  suited  to  their  positions  from  want 
of  industry,  character,  or  other  causes,  soon  made 
their  inefficiency  known,  and  either  voluntarily 
resigned  or  were  politely  informed  by  the  colonel 
that  they  were  not  likely  to  be  useful,  and  went 
home.  The  second  lieutenant  of  our  company,  I 
have  mentioned,  became  first  lieutenant,  then 
captain. 

After  a  quarter  of  a  century,  in  looking  over  the 
first  roster  of  our  officers,  I  find  that,  as  a  rule, 
fitness  was  found  to  exist  inversely  with  rank. 
Of  the  captains,  only  four  ever  went  into  battle, 
while  several  of  the  lieutenants  and  many  non- 
commissioned officers  attained  distinguished  rank 
by  after  services. 

No  men  of  our  regiment,  I  am  proud  to  say, 
during  the  terrible  months  that  followed,  failed  in 
the  performance  of  their  duty.  Steadiness  under 
fire  and  soldierly  habits  were  the  fruits  of  the 
few  months  of  drill  in  "  Camp  Can't  Get  Away." 
The  spring  campaign  was  about  to  open,  and  we 
were  at  last  ordered  to  "pack  up." 

It  was  in  March,  1862,  that  we  were  embarked 
on  a  steamer  and  headed  down  the  Mississippi. 

"  Say,   Tom,"  said  Corporal  Matt  to  me,   "  do 


166  TOM  CLIFTON. 

you  know  what  boat  this  is?  It's  the  Prairie 
Queen.  There's  the  old  captain  standing  on  the 
wheel-house  now ! " 

It  was,  sure  enough,  the  same  on  which  we  had 
gone  up  the  Mississippi  to  St.  Paul  five  years  before. 
The  captain  was  little  changed,  but  at  first  he  did 
not  remember  us.  When  he  was  reminded  of  the 
circumstances  of  our  trip  up  the  river,  he  shook  us 
very  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  then  shook  hands 
again  to  express  his  great  pleasure. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  your  father  said,  '  who  holds 
the  Mississippi  holds  the  kentry,'  and  here  we  are 
at  it  hot  and  heavy  to  see  who'll  hold  it.  Here's 
where  the  tussle's  coming,  sure  enough." 

We  had  mentioned  the  incident  of  Aleck's  advent 
on  his  steamer,  and  his  leathery  face  lit  up  with 
interest  as  he  said,  "  Say  you,  did  you  ever  see 
that  nigger  agin  ?  " 

We  gave  him  an  account  of  our  relations  with 
Aleck  and  his  mysterious  disappearance. 

"  Well,  now,  I  tell  you,  that  boy  when  he  was 
stolen  was  carried  back  on  board  of  this  very 
boat.  He  was  brought  on  board  a  few  miles  below 
St.  Paul.  One  of  the  men  who  had  him  was  a 
gambler  and  Indian  trader  that  had  been  on  my 
boat  before,  and  I  calc'late  he's  a  nigger  trader 
named  Spring.  He  used  to  go  up  and  down  the 
river  with  me  years  ago.  Them  fellers  felt  purty 
good  over  gettin'  your  Aleck  back  agin. 

"  They  had  his  hands  and  feet  tied,  and  one  of 


"CAMP   CAN'T  GET  AWAV   TO  SHILOU.      167 

the  ropes  fastened  to  a  ring-bolt  on  the  upper  deck. 
About  nine  o'clock  at  night  we  stopped  at  a  land- 
ing below  Cairo,  when  some  one  whizzed  by  me 
like  a  shot,  and  was  off.  There  was  considerable 
outcry  at  first,  for  them  ropes  lay  on  deck,  and 
they'd  been  cut  smack  and  smooth  with  a  knife ! 
That  boy  had  got  away  agin,  as  sure  as  you  live," 
and  the  captain  chuckled  as  if  he  was  not  entirely 
dissatisfied,  and  I  got  the  idea  that  he  knew  more 
about  the  cutting  of  Aleck's  bonds  than  was  told. 

"What  did  they  say?" 

"  Well,  Spring  didn't  say  much ;  he  don't  let 
himself  out  in  talk  ;  'tain't  his  way ;  but  the  t'  other 
feller  cussed  everything  blue.  They  got  off  at  the 
next  landin',  and  I  ain't  seen  hide  nor  hair  on  'em 
since.  That  Spring  feller's  a  peculiar  chaj) ;  sharp 
as  a  fox." 

The  captain  insisted  on  giving  us  a  seat  at  his 
table,  and  so,  aside  from  the  renewal  of  our  old 
acquaintance,  the  episode  was  very  gratifying  to 
a  hungry  soldier  boy. 

At  last  we  were  landed  at  Cairo,  at  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Mississippi  and  the  Ohio.  This  was 
a  convenient  rendezvous  for  troops  to  be  used  on 
those  rivers  and  its  tributaries,  the  Tennessee  and 
the  Cumberland.  A  large  number  of  steamers, 
thrown  out  of  employment  by  the  blockading  of 
the  Mississippi,  were  here  available  as  transports 
for  troops  and  supplies. 

We  here  got  the  first  news  of  the  capture  of 


168  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Fort  Henry  on  the  Tennessee  and  Fort  Donelson 
on  the  Cumberland.  The  seizure  of  Paducah,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Cumberland,  by  General  Grant 
some  time  previously  had  opened  these  two  rivers 
to  the  operations  of  the  Union  army,  and  now  the 
capture  of  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson  and  their 
garrisons  had  broken  the  line  of  the  enemy  from 
Columbus  to  Bowling  Green. 

The  excitement  was  intense  among  our  Illinois 
men,  and  the  fighting  qualities  of  our  generals  and 
men  proved  a  never-ending  theme  of  discussion. 
We  were  all  enthusiastic,  and  wrote  to  the  folks 
at  home  in  a  wild  strain  of  patriotism  (on  paper 
decorated  with  the  National  colors),  about  finishing 
the  war  in  a  hundred  days,  and  being  at  home  by 
harvest  time. 

I  remember  now  as  I  write,  that,  although  our 
Illinois  men,  with  the  characteristics  common  to 
Republican  Americans,  were  hungry  for  a  hero, 
they  did  not  think  of  Grant  as  the  coming  Napo- 
leon, but  rather  looked  to  General  McClernand  to 
perform  that  part. 

Said  one  of  these  men  who  had  seen  Mc- 
Clernand, "  Now,  see  how  he  fit  at  Fort  Donelson. 
When  them  rebs  wanted  commissioners  appointed 
to  see  to  the  surrender,  he  said,  —  McClernand  did, 
— '  I'm  goin'  to  move  on  yer  work  ter  wonct ! '  " 

"  It  was  General  Grant  that  said  that,"  said 
Matt,  who  had  been  reading  the  newspapers. 

"  Look  here,  young  feller !    I  guess  you   don't 


''CAMP  CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.     169 

understand  Illinois  politics.  Of  course  that  Grant 
feller  understands  military,  but  McClernand  is 
the  brains !  Grant's  kinder  managin'  'till  Mac  gits 
the  hang  o'  military  things  a  little." 

"What!  that  little  Grant  feller!  old  Jesse 
Grant,  the  tanner's  son  ! "  said  a  Galena  man  con- 
temptuously. "  Why,  he  ain't  got  no  stuff  in  him  ! 
He's  as  quiet  as  a  lamb  !  Jack  Rawlings  is  jest 
a  runnin'  him.  You'd  ought  to  hear  Jack  make  a 
speech !  He's  a  hustler ;  awful  smart  feller. 
Humph  !  that  Grant  feller  !-" 

We  arrived  at  Paducah  on  the  8th,  and  at  Fort 
Henry  on  the  9th.  Fort  Henry  is  on  the  Ten- 
nessee and  Fort  Donelson  on  the  Cumberland 
River,  and  it  had  puzzled  me  to  know  how 
Donelson,  being  on  a  different  river,  could  be 
advantageously  attacked  by  the  land  forces  at 
Fort  Henry.  I  now  discovered  that  the  two 
branches  of  the  Ohio  River  ran  for  fifty  miles 
almost  parallel  to  each  other,  and  that  an  easy 
march  of  ten  or  eleven  miles  across  this  narrow 
neck  of  land  brought  our  troops  from  one  fort 
to  the  other. 

Finally,  leaving  this  position,  we  steamed  up 
the  Tennessee,  and  on  the  15th  were  disembarked 
at  Yellow  Creek,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
in  the  midst  of  a  very  disagreeable  storm  of  rain 
and  sleet.  I  have  always  since  found  that  damp- 
ness and  darkness  are  both  fatal  to  military 
enthusiasm. 


170  TOM  CLIFTON. 

I  had  begun  to  find  out  that  the  ordinary  soldier 
does  not  select  his  own  time  for  fighting  or  dying, 
but  often  has  to  do  both  when  it  is  most  unpleas- 
ant, and  he  is  most  unprepared. 

We  stood  in  line  with  the  sleet  pouring  and  the 
water  dripping  down  our  backs,  wondering  why 
military  operations  could  not  wait  for  fair  weather. 

Then  the  column  moved.  We  were  ordered  to 
keep  closed  up,  and  then  began  the  most  wearying 
and  discouraging  experience  of  floundering  and 
miring  in  mud  and  water  until  the  discontent  of 
the  men  was  as  deep  as  the  slough.  The  whole 
country  was  apparently  under  water,  and  the 
"  expeditionary  force "  was  in  danger  of  being 
there  also,  unless  we  took  the  back  track  to  the 
boat! 

At  last,  after  nine  o'clock,  we  turned  back,  and  I 
don't  think  I  ever  saw  the  military  pomp  taken 
out  of  men  so  thoroughly.  If  epithets  had  been 
bullets,  directed  at  the  enemy  instead  of  our 
generals,  the  enemy  would  have  been  destroyed. 

"  They  do  say  that  this  doggoned  General 
Sherman  is  crazy,  and  this  looks  mightily  like  it," 
said  a  lank  Missourian  in  the  line. 

We  were  finally  on  board  the  transports  again, 
and  got  our  dinner  of  hard-tack  and  coffee,  and 
soon  steamed  farther  up  the  river,  as  Sam  Ryder 
said,  "like  the  dove  after  the  Deluge,  looking  for 
a  dry  place  to  land." 

At  that  time  the  Tennessee  River  rose  fifteen 


*'CAMP  CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.     171 

feet  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  and  all  the  low 
land  along  its  banks  was  under  water. 

Later  in  the  day  we  ran  down  to  Pittsburg 
Landing.  Here  some  of  the  troops  and  artillery 
were  landed.  Finally  we  were  all  debarked,  and 
had  a  chance  to  stretch  our  legs  on  land,  even  if 
it  was  not  on  dry  land. 

Here  I  first  saw  General  Sherman.  He  was 
superintending  the  disembarkment.  His  manner 
was  quick  and  nervous,  and  I  thought  by  the  few 
sharp  words  he  uttered,  that  he  was  impatient  of 
delays  occasioned  by  the  rain.  His  reddish  hair 
and  his  face,  "  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of 
thought,"  his  high,  pale  forehead,  and  tall,  thin 
person,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  student 
rather  than  a  man  of  action. 

Among  the  first  orders  issued,  I  remember  the 
following :  "  No  citizen  will  be  allowed  to  come 
within  the  lines,  and  the  guard  will  be  instructed 
to  make  prisoners  of  all  lurking  in  the  neighboring 
country.  The  people  at  their  homes  will  not  be 
molested,  but  protected.  Wagons  loaded  with  for- 
age, will  be  allowed  to  come  to  our  lines,  but  not 
beyond." 

Our  regiment  was  finally  encamped  on  a  hill- 
side near  a  wood,  beyond  which  was  a  ravine,  while 
farther  on  our  left  were  several  log  structures,  and 
among  them  the  Shiloh  "  meeting-house." 

The  country  was   rolling   land,  mostly  wooded, 


172  TOM  CLIFTON. 

with  here  and  there  a  clearing ;  every  one  of  these 
has  now  a  sanguinary  history. 

Our  company  was  put  on  picket  a  few  days  after 
our  arrival,  to  keep  the  usual  watch  along  army 
lines.  No  enemy  was  in  sight,  but  there  had  come 
to  us  rumors  of  a  serious  cavalry  encounter  be- 
yond us. 

That  afternoon  a  team  came  along  the  narrow 
Purdy  road,  loaded  with  forage,  which  was  taken 
by  the  quartermaster.  The  man  driving  the  team 
had  a  basket  filled  with  chickens  and  other  eatables, 
which  he  asked  permission  to  carry  to  his  mother, 
an  old  woman  who  he  said  was  sick,  and  who 
lived  near  the  church.  At  first  this  was  refused ; 
but  Matt  said,  "  One  man  can't  eat  up  an  army,  let 
him  go !  "  so  Sam  was  put  on  as  a  guard  to  accom- 
pany him. 

Peter,  who  had  been  eying  the  man,  turned  to 
me  after  he  had  left,  and  said,  "  Wild  Dog." 

"  Why,  tliis  man  does  not  look  like  him ! "  I 
said. 

"  He  Wild  Dog !  "  persisted  Peter. 

I  informed  the  colonel  of  what  Peter  had  said, 
when  he  gave  orders  to  have  him  arrested.  Before 
we  had  gone  far  we  met  Sam  coming  back,  and  in 
reply  to  our  questions  he  said,  "That  sly  feller 
give  me  the  slip  down  by  the  meetin'  'us,  but  of 
course  he  will  come  here  fur  his  team,  and  there 
can't  be  much  danger  from  one  man," 


"CAMP   CAN'T  GET  AWAY"   TO  SHILOH.     173 

Peter,  however,  shook  his  head,  saying  "Wild 
Dog  spy." 

Colonel  Archer  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  opinion, 
for  he  gave  strict  orders  to  arrest  the  man  if  found 
within  our  lines  again ;  but  he  was  not  found. 


174  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

BATTLEFIELD   OF   SHILOH. 

About  the  first  of  March,  while  at  the  landing 
assisting  in  drawing  rations  for  the  regiment,  I  for 
the  first  time  saw  General  Grant. 

After  the  battle  of  Donelson  he  had  been  for 
some  time  without  a  command,  and  it  was  rumored 
that  he  was  under  arrest.  He  was  now,  however, 
assigned  to  the  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Ten- 
nessee. 

At  the  landing  there  were,  at  the  time  of  my 
visit,  several  light-draft  steamers  with  gang-planks 
run  out  to  the  shore  :  from  one  of  these  (the  "  Ti- 
gress," I  think)  was  being  landed  a  group  of  offi- 
cers and  orderlies  with  their  horses. 

"  There's  General  Grant,"  said  one  of  our  party, 
pointing  him  out. 

"  What,  that  little  fellow  ?  "  exclaimed  Matt. 

Certainly,  of  all  the  officers  of  the  group  (per- 
haps ten  in  number),  he  appeared  to  me  the  least 
like  a  general.  There  was  nothing  distinguished 
or  striking  in  his  appearance,  for  in  person  he  was 
insignificantly  small.  We  crowded  near  to  get  a 
good  look  at  him.     He  was  very  quick,  his  voice 


BATTLEFIELD  OF  SHILOH.  175 

low  and  distinct,  yet  full  of  suppressed  energy. 
He  had  in  his  face  a  look  of  concentration  that 
gave  me  the  impression  that  he  might  be  terribly  in 
earnest  in  spite  of  his  coolness,  should  the  occasion 
demand,  and  as  if  he  could  concentrate  all  his  pow- 
ers of  mind  to  the  solving  of  a  difficult  problem. 

When  his  horse  was  brought  out,  he  mounted 
without  use  of  the  stirrup,  and  sat  his  horse  easily 
though  not  gracefully. 

I  may  have  noticed  his  insignificant  figure  the 
more  from  the  fact  that  he  was  accompanied  by 
one  of  the  most  magnificent  men  physically  that  I 
had  ever  seen, — a  black  bearded,  strong  featured 
man,  tall  and  graceful,  and  magnificently  uni- 
formed, —  a  man  afterwards  known  to  fame  as 
General  James  McPherson,  but  then  a  colonel  on 
General  Grant's  staff. 

After  the  group  had  galloped  away  an  Iowa  man 
of  our  party  exclaimed,  "  Why,  it  looks  like  he 
hadn't  growed  yet! " 

"Who?" 

"  Why,  that  quiet  feller  Grant." 

The  whole  group  agreed  with  the  Iowa  man's 
statement  that  Grant  "  wouldn't  set  the  Tennessee 
River  afire."  It  must  be  confessed  that  the 
Republican  volunteer  soldiers  of  that  period  be- 
lieved in  a  general  with  a  little  more  gold  lace, 
brass  buttons,  and  pomp  than  what  that  "  little 
feller  Grant "  carried  around. 

There  was  at  this  time  at  Pittsburg  Landing  a 


176  TOM  CLIFTON. 

formidable  army  of  nearly  thirty-five  thousand 
men  —  an  army  larger  than  that  which  Napoleon 
commanded  in  his  first  Italian  campaign,  when  he 
descended  upon  the  fields  of  Marengo  like  an  eagle 
from  the  Alps. 

The  last  of  March  the  Army  of  the  Ohio,  con- 
sisting of  thirty  thousand,  began  its  march  to  join 
the  Army  of  the  Tennessee.  This  would  give 
Grant  over  sixty  thousand  men  with  whom  to 
attack  and  overwhelm  the  enemy,  gathering  like 
a  cloud  at  Corinth,  some  twenty  miles  distant. 

Singular  as  it  ma}'-  now  appear,  there  was  no 
anticipation  or  fear  in  our  army  at  that  time  that 
the  enemy  might  abandon  the  I'ole  of  the  hunted 
and  become  the  huntsman. 

The  town  of  Corinth  is  twenty-two  miles  by 
road,  south-west  from  Pittsburg  Landing,  and 
almost  on  the  line  of  Mississippi  and  Tennessee. 
It  was  a  very  important  strategic  point,  for  from 
thence  railroads  radiated  north,  west,  south,  and  east, 
very  important  for  the  rebels  to  hold,  and,  there- 
fore, equally  desirable  for  our  army  to  capture. 
Here  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  had  gathered  an 
army  of  forty  thousand  Confederates  who  were 
burning  to  retrieve  the  disasters  of  Forts  Henry 
and  Donelson. 

Halleck,  the  general  in  command,  all  wrapped 
in  his  own  great  thought  like  the  bird  of  wisdom, 
had  not  learned  these  facts.  The  able  Confederate 
general  had,  however,  learned  of  the  contemplated 


BATTLEFIELD   OF  SHILOH.  177 

union  of  Buell's  forces  with  those  of  Grant,  and 
began  at  once  to  bestir  himself  to  prevent  this 
juncture. 

On  the  2d  of  April  he  put  his  army  in  motion 
to  attack,  and  destroy  if  possible,  the  army  under 
Grant  before  Buell's  arrival  with  his  thirty  thou- 
sand men.  The  intervening  country  to  be  trav- 
ersed by  Johnston's  army  to  reach  Shiloh  was  cut 
by  streams,  was  in  j)art  heavily  wooded,  and  its 
roads  were  muddy  and  poor.  This  so  delayed  the 
march  of  his  army  that  it  did  not  reach  our  front 
until  Sunday  morning,  AjDiil  6. 

At  this  time  the  five  divisions  of  the  Union 
army  were  stretched  across  the  top  of  a  V-shaped 
peninsula,  the  right  arm  of  which  is  formed  by 
Snake  and  Owl  Creeks,  and  the  left  by  the 
Tennessee  River  and  Lick  Creek.  The  ground 
within  this  V  is  undulating  tableland,  rising  from 
the  Tennessee  about  one  hundred  feet,  mostly 
wooded,  with  here  and  there  a  clearing.  Along 
the  lower  part  of  the  lower  left  arm  of  this  V 
formed  by  the  Tennessee,  the  land  is  broken  into 
abrupt  ravines,  while  at  Lick  Creek,  which  forms 
its  upper  part,  there  rises  a  range  of  hills,  which 
slope  towards  the  battlefield. 

On  the  morning  when  this  bloody  battle  began, 
the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  under  Grant  was 
formed  across  the  top  of  this  V  as  follows :  First, 
Sherman's  division  on  the  extreme  right  covering 
the    Purdy  Road,  across    Owl  Creek  and  to  the 


178  TOM  CLIFTON. 

clearincT  at  Shiloh  Church ;  then  McClernand's 
and  Prentiss's  divisions  ;  with  Huilbut's  in  the 
rear  of  Prentiss's,  and  C.  F.  Smith's  division  in 
rear  on  our  right,  both  in  reserve. 

Up  tlie  river  at  Crump's  Landing,  where  it  was 
believed  an  attack  might  be  made  by  the  enemy, 
there  were  stationed  five  thousand  men  under 
General  Lew  Wallace. 

On  Friday  the  enemy's  cavalry  captured  sev- 
eral of  the  men  of  our  advance,  and  on  Saturday 
it  was  reported  that  his  cavalry  was  still  hovering 
around  our  outposts.  Later  in  the  war  this 
would  have  been  sufficient  warning  to  our  army 
that  an  attack  was  impending ;  but  at  this  time 
both  officers  and  men  were  over  confident,  and 
because  of  previous  successes  did  not  believe  that 
the  Confederates  would  wait  for  a  fight  if  attacked, 
much  less  attack  us  on  our  own  ground. 

One  of  the  cavalrymen  among  those  who  had 
been  sent  out  to  drive  away  the  enemy's  videts  told 
Matt  that  they  "had  left  the  road  full  of  dead 
rebels,  and  he  reckoned  they'd  a-got  enough  of  it." 

"  Did  they  fight  well  ?  "  queried  Matt. 

"  Fight,  man  !  What  are  you  talking  about  ? 
Every  one  of  'em  turned  tail  and  skedaddled  when 
they  seed  us  comin'.  We  jest  shot  'em  down. 
We'd  'a'  killed  the  liull  of  'em  if  they'd  'a'  waited ; 
but  they  was  jest  in  a  hurry,  they  was,  when  they 
seed  us  a-comin'  you  bet." 

It  was  not  believed  by  General  Grant  that  an 


BATTLEFIELD   OF  SHILOH.  179 

attack  was  seriously  menaced,  or  he  would  have 
remained  on  the  field  Saturday  night,  instead  of 
returning  to   Crump's  Landing. 

Before  daylight  Sunday  morning  Peter  awakened 
me  by  saying,  "  Smell  gunpowder  !  hear  guns  !  " 

"  Oh,  lay  down,  Peter !  You  are  always  smell- 
ing or  hearing  something.  Let  a  fellow  have  his 
nap!"  said  Matt,  yawning.  But  in  a  moment  more 
we  heard  the  distant  "  cracA;,"  "  crack^^  "  crack  "  of 
musketry ;  and  though  we  had  never  heard  an 
attack  before,  its  meaning  was  unmistakable. 

We  sj)rang  to  our  feet,  and  seized  our  muskets 
as  the  report  of  musketry  grew  louder  and  sharper 
down  on  our  left.  Even  then  Sam  Rj-der  yawned 
and  said,  "  Oh,  blast  it !  them  fellers  down  there 
always  shoot  off  their  guns  when  they  come  in  from 
picket-duty." 

"  Two  sides  firing,"  said  Peter,  listening. 

Matt  and  I  knew  too  well  his  trained  sense  of 
hearing  to  doubt  his  word  on  such  a  point ;  and  I 
began  to  turn  out  the  company,  and  we  had  put  on 
our  equipments  and  haversacks  when  the  order 
came  from  our  superiors.  So  that  our  muskets 
were  in  order,  and  our  haversacks  bulging  with 
hard-tack  and  cooked  "  salt  boss,"  when  the  captain 
came  down  the  line  of  tents. 

Soon  the  long  roll  sounded  along  the  line,  and 
men  were  seen  trying  to  swallow  their  breakfast, 
at  the  same  time  nervously  adjusting  their  straps 
and  belts. 


180  TOM  CLIFTON. 

The  crasli  of  musketry  and  roar  of  artillery 
grew  more  aud  more  distinct,  and  now  fully  justi- 
fied Peter's  assertion  that  there  were  "  two  sides  " 
to  the  uproar. 

That  tlie  youthful  reader  may  understand  what 
had  happened,  we  will  explain  that  a  Confederate 
force  of  seven  thousand  men  under  General  Hardee 
had  at  daylight  advanced  in  two  parallel  lines,  and 
encountered  General  Prentiss's  division,  driving  it 
back  to  its  camps,  though  stubbornly  resisted  at 
every  step.  In  order  to  avoid  the  deep  ravines 
running  towards  Lick  Creek  on  the  right  and  left, 
this  attacking  force  followed  the  level  land  on 
which  this  road  forks  right  and  left  near  Shiloh 
Church.  This  had  brought  it  to  a  weak  part  of 
our  line  between  the  right  of  Prentiss  (whose 
front  was  formed  by  one  brigade  thrown  out  a 
mile   in  advance)  and  Sherman's  left. 

There  is  evidence  in  all  the  Confederate  reports 
of  the  over-confidence  of  Prentiss's  men,  but  not  of 
a  surprise.  Prentiss's  men  were  steadily  driven 
back  to  their  camps  by  the  foe,  where  the  rebel 
advance  was  checked  by  a  terrible  fire  from  a  line 
of  men  drawn  up  in  front  of  their  camps,  in  a 
strong  position  covered  by  a  morass  in  front. 
From  behind  logs  and  bales  of  hay  a  terrible  fire 
here  drove  back  the  Confederates,  inflicting  on 
them  terrible  loss. 

The  terrific  nature  of  the  fighting  here  is  seen 
by  the  fact  that  the  Sixth  Mississippi  reports  that 


BATTLEFIELD  OF  SHILOH.  181 

it  here  lost  three  hundred  killed  and  wounded  out 
of  an  effective  force  of  four  hundi-ed  and  twenty. 

I  make  mention  of  this  in  justice  to  my  brave 
comrades  of  Prentiss's  division,  who  have  been 
slandered  by  the  report  that  they  were  surprised 
in  their  camps.  This  was  at  half-past  six  Sunday 
morning. 

The  whole  of  Sherman's  division  was  mean- 
while awaiting  the  attack.  From  the  crests  of  the 
hills  the  enemy  could  be  seen  moving  along  the 
ravines,  while  near  us  we  could  see  them  massing 
on  the  low  land  and  not  yet  in  position  for  attack. 
Into  their  compact  masses  our  batteries  began  to 
throw  shot  and  shell,  and  then  we  saw  them  scam- 
pering for  the  cover  of  the  woods. 

The  musketry  fire  soon  began  on  the  left  of  our 
line,  and  we  then  received  orders  to  march  to  sup- 
port the  right  of  a  brigade  which  had  encountered 
the  enemy  near  the  Corinth  Road. 

This  may  seem  commonplace  to  write,  but  it 
was  not  so  in  reality.  As  we  hastened  towards  the 
sound  of  artillery,  Avhich  made  the  ground  tremble, 
and  the  long  crackle  of  musketry  and  the  crash 
and  din  to  which  we  were  approaching,  I  for  one 
began  to  feel  that  I  had  mistaken  my  vocation.  The 
pallor  and  nervous  tension  shown  on  the  faces  of 
my  comrades  as  we  went  into  line  amid  the  hum  and 
zip  and  sharp  ^'•ping!''''  of  bullets  that  agitated  the 
air  around  us,  and  the  pop  !  pop !  pop !  pop !  of 
musketry  on  our  front,  sounding  for  all  the  world 


182  TOM  CLIFTON. 

like  fire-crackers  in  a  barrel,  only  louder  and  more 
terrible,  showed  that  we  had  already  encountered 
the  enemy. 

Shall  I  confess  it  ?  Yes ;  for  as  Matt  used  to 
say,  "  Confession  is  good  for  the  soul,  if  it  is  rough 
on  pride,"  so  I  will  confess  that  I  was  frightened 
and  at  the  same  time  humiliated  to  feel  that  I 
wanted  to  run  away.  I  was  acting  orderly  ser- 
geant, and  Peter,  being  the  tallest  corporal  of  the 
company,  touched  elbows  with  me,  while  the  cap- 
tain was  several  paces  in  the  rear  as  we  began  to 
load  and  fire.  I  must  have  been  much  excited; 
for  Peter  said,  "  Load  too  much,"  and  I  then 
discovered  that  I  had  put  two  cartridges  into 
my  musket  without  firing  once,  and  when  I  did 
fire,  the  recoil  almost  carried  me  to  the  rear 
rank. 

The  noise  and  shouting,  the  hiss  of  bullets,  and 
the  hissing,  sputtering,  and  howling  '•'■chu!  cJiu! 
cTiuirig!^''  of  shell  increased  every  moment.  They 
reminded  Matt  of  "  rebel  locomotives  that  had  left 
their  track  at  Corinth,  and  had  come  on  a  murder- 
ous Yankee  hunting  excursion  to  Shiloh." 

Then  I  began  to  recognize  one  sound  that  was 
more  awful  than  any  other :  it  was  the  chug  I 
chug  !  spat !  spat !  and  shurr  of  bullets  striking  in 
the  mass  of  men  around  us,  accompanied  by  sharp 
cries  or  groans  and  curses  from  wounded  men. 

At  the  first  explosion  of  shell  around  us,  I  was 
too  confused  to  tell  what  had  happened.     It  seemed 


BATTLEFIELD  OF  SHILOH.  183 

as  if  the  world  had  gone  to  pieces  and  the  larger 
part  of  it,  including  the  locomotives,  was  bursting 
in  space  around  us. 

I  heard  the  cry  "  Here  they  come  !  "  Cold  chills 
ran  down  my  back,  and  then  a  sickening  tremor 
ran  all  over  me,  and  settled  in  my  knee-joints  and 
my  stomach.  All  this,  or  at  least  enough  of  it, 
must  have  been  seen  in  my  face,  as  the  enemy 
charged  our  lines,  for  Peter  said  in  an  undertone, 
"  Buck  fever !  straighten  up  !  "  I  had  heard  people 
tell  how  their  hearts  felt  during  times  of  great 
peril  and  fear.  Now  that  I  have  a  chance  to  ex- 
plain, I  will  say  fear  always  went  to  my  stomach 
rather  than  to  my  heart.  I  could,  however,  hear 
my  heart  above  the  uproar  pounding  away  like 
a  muffled  drum  at  a  funeral. 

I  asked  myself,  after  Peter's  remarks,  over  and 
over  again,  Am  I  really  a  coward?  and  as  often 
acknowledged.  Yes. 

I  was  so  filled  with  shame  at  this  acknowledg- 
ment from  my  inner  consciousness,  that  I  straight- 
ened up  and  gained  enough  command  of  myself  to 
be  afraid  of  being  thought  afraid.  I  felt  that  I 
must  say  something  to  keep  up  an  appearance  of 
courage,  and  exclaimed  to  the  men,  "  Dress  up  there 
on  the  right,"  and  heard  Peter's  grunt  of  approval 
as  I  exclaimed,  "  There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of !  " 
and  then  I  thought,  oh,  what  a  sham  I  am ! 

Just  then  I  heard  Colonel  Archer  say  to  a  group 
of  mounted  officers  sheltered  by  some  trees  at  our 


184  TOM  CLIFTON. 

left,  "  General,  we've  repelled  a  charge,"  which 
I  am  sure  was  news  to  me.  The  General  replied, 
"  The  enemy  have  got  a  flanking  fire  here  "  (and 
just  then  a  bullet  struck  my  musket  barrel,  and 
glancing  off  killed  a  man  in  the  rear  rank  three 
files  from  me).  "Let  the  left  of  your  regiment 
fall  back  a  little,  and  deliver  their  fire.  We  must 
hold  this  position,"  said  the  General.  "That's 
Sherman  !  "  said  some  one.  I  looked  up  and  saw 
him  sitting  his  horse  as  calmly  as  if  it  were  a 
dress  parade,  instead  of  real  fighting. 

As  we  were  falling  back  some  men  joined  us 
who  proved  to  be  some  of  Prentiss's  men  who  had 
got  separated  from  their  command  when  he  was 
driven  back ;  here  also  we  captured  some  of  the 
enemy's  stragglers,  and  sent  them  down  the 
Corinth  Road  to  the  Landing. 

Finally  we  got  far  enough  back  to  keep  up  a 
connected  line  with  Prentiss  who  had  been  driven 
back  on  Hurlbut,  and  we  were  in  danger  other- 
wise of  being  cut  off  from  our  main  line.  Then 
our  whole  force  began  graduall}^  receding. 

In  this  new  position  a  battery  of  the  enemy  on 
our  left  began  to  throw  shot  and  shell  into  our 
ranks.  Crash!  hang!  chug!  came  the  shells,  ex- 
ploding above  our  heads,  or  ploughing  up  the  dirt, 
and  crashing  among  the  underbrush,  and  twice 
striking  our  ranks,  leaving  ghastly  relics  of  their 
visits  which  I  could  not  think  of  afterwards  with- 
out a  shudder. 


BATTLEFIELD  OF  SHILOH.  185 

"  This  won't  do  !  "  said  Colonel  Archer.  "  Boys, 
we  must  take  that  battery  !  Shoulder  arms  !  trail 
arms!  forward!  double-quick!  charge!"  and  shout- 
ing and  yelling  we  charged  the  enemy. 

"  Rushing  on  the  enemy  "  looks  fine  on  paper 
as  I  write  it,  but  the  real  thing  was  not  agreeable 
as  I  remember  the  opei-ation.  Even  Peter  said, 
"  We  get  killed." 

I  will  say  in  justice  to  myself  that  I  was  now  no 
longer  very  much  frightened.  Yet  when  Matt 
said  to  me,  '^  Oh,  an'  if  they'd  only  be  kind  enough 
to  run  before  we  get  to  them  !  "  though  I  was  not 
frightened,  it  seemed  to  express  a  wish  that  I  had 
kept  in  reserve  somewhere. 

Fortunately  for  us,  the  shot  from  the  rebel 
batteries  mostly  went  over  us,  and  finally  they, 
seeing  we  were  in  earnest,  didn't  wait. 

I  remember  during  this  charge  Sam  Ryder  pick- 
ing a  triangular  piece  of  skull-bone  from  his  coat, 
where  some  poor  fellow  of  ours  had  had  his  brains 
dashed  out  with  a  shot,  and  saying,  as  his  eyes 
protruded,  "  Thunder,  look  at  that !  " 

It  was  soon  discovered  that  our  charcre  had  car- 
ried  us  to  the  same  elevated  ground,  and  so  far  that 
we  were  cut  off  from  our  main  line.  So  we  dis- 
mounted two  guns  and  overturned  another  ,of  them. 

We  could  hear  meanwhile  with  terrible  distinct- 
ness the  roar  of  the  fight  receding  towards  Pitts- 
burg Landing 

*'  We  shall  all  be  taken  prisoners  if  we  are  not 


186  TOM  CLIFTON. 

careful,"  said  Sam  Ryder.  "  Look  !  "  (pointing  to 
a  line  of  smoke  towards  Pittsburg)  "  that's 
Tophet  witli  the  lid  off !  "  We  crossed  a  clearing 
and  halted  in  the  fringe  of  woods  for  concealment, 
and  while  in  this  position  a  horseman  rode  out 
into  the  clearing.  I  saw  Peter  bring  his  rifle  to  a 
deadly  aim.     I  struck  up  his  musket. 

"  What  matter?  "  said  Peter. 

"It's  Lieutenant  Preston,"  I  replied. 

"  Can't  help  ;  he  rebel,"  said  Peter,  bringing  his 
musket  once  more  to  a  deadly  aim ;  but  just  as 
Peter  fired,  the  horseman,  putting  his  horse  into  a 
gallop,  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

Colonel  Archer  found  on  reconnoitring  that  it 
was  impossible  for  the  regiment  to  get  back  by  the 
way  it  had  come,  as  the  enemy  had  got  between  us 
and  our  lines. 

He  consulted  Peter  as  an  old  woodsman,  who 
said,  "  Try  find  way  out ; "  and  as  he  knew  the 
ground  very  well,  we  all  thought  he  would  do  it 
if  any  one  could.  We  were  now  nearly  out  of 
ammunition,  and  gathered  it  from  some  dead  men 
as  the  regiment  passed  through  the  thickets 
towards  Lick  Creek.  Without  hesitation  Peter 
took  an  unusual  path  or  trail.  Was  there  a  chance 
for  us  after  all  ? 

We  were  carefully  feeling  our  way,  and  had  got 
a  little  beyond  the  Purdy  Bridge  across  Owl 
Creek  when  we  came  to  a  swamp  partly  over- 
flowed.    Through  this  we  were  safely  conducted 


BATTLEFIELD  OF  SHILOH.  187 

by  Peter,  who  seemed  to  remember  every  fallen 
log,  every  hummock  and  morass,  over  which  he 
guided  all  that  remained  of  our  regiment  with 
unerring  instinct  or  memory. 

We  thought  ourselves  well  out  of  our  trouble, 
and  were  just  congratulating  ourselves,  when  from 
the  wood  on  our  right  there  came  a  volley  of  mus- 
ketry that  killed  a  number  of  our  men  and  wounded 
more.  We  steadily  returned  the  fire  while  con- 
tinuing our  march,  to  prevent  being  cut  off  entirely 
from  our  lines  which  we  were  then  fast  nearing, 
and  were  on  dry  land  once  more.  We  were  soon 
once  more  in  line  with  our  troops. 

Here  we  took  account  of  our  losses,  and  found 
that  a  portion  of  our  company  had  been  captured, 
wounded,  or  killed  by  the  enemy,  and  among  the 
missing  was  Matt. 

Amid  such  scenes,  men  have  no  time  to  lament 
or  borrow  trouble,  so  burdened  are  they  with  the 
things  of  the  present.  Peter  looked  anxious,  but 
showed  no  other  signs  of  distress. 

The  fight  along  our  lines  still  fiercely  continued, 
and  we  were  at  once  assigned  to  a  position.  Our 
thin  line  was  continually  pressed  back,  until  we 
came  to  the  creek  where  a  bridge  crossed  the 
marshy  land  and  stream  connecting  with  the  river 
road  from  Crump's  Landing. 

It  was  over  this  bridge  and  by  this  road  that 
Lew  Wallace,  with  five  thousand  men  from 
Crump's  Landing,  was  anxiously  expected  to  re-en- 


188  TOM  CLIFTON. 

force  our  hard-pressed  army  wliich  had  been  melt- 
ing away  like  an  iceberg  in  the  tropics.  Here  we 
were  told  we  must  hold  the  road  on  account  of 
Lew  Wallace's  expected  arrival. 

The  Army  of  the  Tennessee  had  fallen  back  until 
it  then  occupied  a  continuous  line  from  beyond 
this  bridge  on  Snake  Creek,  or  Owl  Creek,  to 
beyond  the  point  on  the  Tennessee  River  where 
our  gunboats  and  transports  lay.  As  our  forces 
were  dwindled  by  wounds  and  death  and  skulk- 
ing, they  were  driven  to  the  narrow  portion  of  the 
V,  to  a  position  that  could  be  held  by  fewer  men. 

Under  the  bluff  there  were  crowds  of  fugitive 
skulkers,  whom  no  amount  of  argument  could 
induce  to  take  their  places  in  line.  Along  the  top 
of  the  bluff,  on  our  left,  not  far  from  the  Landing, 
twenty  pieces  of  artillery  (some  of  them  siege- 
guns)  were  in  position  overlooking  a  deep  ravine, 
rendered  impassable  to  cavalry  or  artillery  by  the 
overflow  from  the  Tennessee  River,  which  made  it 
waist-deep  with  water  and  mud. 

Hurlbut's  division,  or  all  that  remained  of  it, 
was  formed  on  the  right  of  these  guns.  Here  the 
last  attempt  to  overwhelm  our  left  flank  was 
stayed,  when  the  Confederates  who  had  formed 
on  the  hill  beyond  were  driven  back  under  the 
destructive  fire  of  these  guns.  Tins  was  about  sun- 
down, and  the  well-disciplined  troops  of  Nelson's 
division  of  the  Army  of  the  Ohio  arrived  soon  after- 
wards.    Night  and  Buell  both  came  to  succor  the 


BATTLEFIELD  OF  SHILOH.  189 

hard-pressed  lines  at  Shiloh.  Lew  Wallace  arrived 
tardily  after  darkness  liad  come.  The  fortunes  of 
the  day,  which  had  trembled  in  the  balance  during 
all  that  fateful  afternoon,  were  restored,  but,  as 
Sam  Ryder  said,  "  It  was  an  awful  tight  squeak." 

Tired,  exhausted,  and  hungry,  we  lay  down  on 
the  field  in  line  of  battle  in  the  heavy  rain-storm 
of  that  night,  but  with  a  sense  of  satisfaction  in 
the  thought  that  "  the  enemy  would  '  catch  it " 
on  the  morrow."  It  had  been  the  liveliest  Sun- 
day of  my  life.  My  heart  was  saddened  by  the 
thought  that  poor  Matt  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  or  wounded,  or  dead  on  the  field.  I  was 
too  worn  out  to  mourn  long,  and  soon  fell  into  a 
sleep  as  sound  as  if  pouring  rains  and  damp, 
hard  ground  added  to  my  comfort. 

When  daylight  came,  stiff  and  lame  and  weary 
we  once  more  stood  wet  and  shivering  in  line, 
and  soon  took  up  the  weary  march  of  glory  in 
attempting  to  drive  the  enemy. 

The  Union  army  now  formed  a  heavy  column 
with  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  on  the  right  and 
Buell's  army  on  the  left.  All  that  was  left  of 
our  regiment  was  formed  on  the  left  of  our  division. 
The  enemy  now  began  getting  away  more  speedily 
than  they  had  advanced. 

The  wounded  and  dead  of  both  armies  were  a 
terrible  sight.  Some  of  the  cleared  land  over 
which  the  tide  of  battle  had  surged  on  the  pre- 
vious day  one  might  have  crossed  without  touching 


190  TOM  CLIFTON. 

the  ground,  by  stepping  on  the  dead.  The  brush 
in  the  woods  was  in  some  places  cut  away  as  if 
it  had  been  mowed,  while  large  trees  were  scarred 
and  barked  and  filled  with  pieces  of  shell,  spheri- 
cal case-shot,  and  bullets,  showing  the  terrible  fire 
under  which  the  Union  army  had  melted  away 
during  that  eventful  Sunday  at  Shiloh. 

The  day  was  too  wet  and  depressing  for  glory, 
and  my  heart  was  too  gloomy  and  sad  to  rejoice 
over  a  victory  gained  at  such  cost  of  human 
suffering  and  sorrow.  And  poor,  faithful  Matt, 
where  was  he  ?  My  heart  was  as  heavy  that  day 
as  the  marching. 

Before  night  there  came  the  intelligence  of 
victory  and  that  the  enemy  were  hastily  retreating 
to  Corinth. 

That  night  we  occupied  our  old  camps ;  but  they 
had  been  turned  inside  out,  and  most  things  eat- 
able or  valuable  carried  away.  I  never  saw  my 
knapsack  again,  or  any  of  the  little  keepsakes 
I  had  therein ;  but  the  Johnnie  who  got  them 
was  welcome  if  it  delayed  him  from  firing  even 
one  more  shot  in  my  direction. 

Much  has  been  since  said  by  newspaper  corre- 
spondents of  the  cowardice  of  the  men  at  Shiloh ; 
but  the  fearful  loss  among  the  unnamed  but  heroic 
soldiers  who  fell  without  hope  of  special  mention 
shows  that  the  rank  and  file  were  animated  that  day 
by  the  same  courage  and  patriotic  devotion  that 
finally  saved  the  Union  of  States. 


BATTLEFIELD   OF  SHILOH.  191 

The  losses  had  been  terrible :  in  Sherman's  divis- 
ion it  was  2,034,  only  450  of  whom  were  among  the 
missing,  and  this  among  troops  that  had  never 
before  seen  a  battlefield. 

The  want  of  cohesion  and  concert  of  action  was 
a  bad  feature  of  the  Sunday's  fight,  but  not  in  so 
marked  a  degree  as  has  been  assumed  among  critics. 

Shiloh  was  one  of  the  bloodiest  battles  of  the 
West ;  and  whatever  criticism  of  General  Grant 
may  be  made,  his  iron  resolution  and  tenacious 
will  held  those  wavering  lines  till  Buell  came. 
All  honor  to  the  men  of  the  "  Army  of  the  Ohio  !  " 
No  veteran  of  the  army  under  Grant  would  take 
from  them  a  single  laurel  won  upon  that  fateful 
field  on  Monday,  the  7th,  and  we  were  all  re- 
joiced to  see  them  when  they  came  to  Pittsburg 
Landing  and  we  heard  their  steady  volleys  when 
they  took  up  the  fight  where  we  had  left  it  on 
Sunday  evening,  the  6th  of  April,  1862,  with 
more  gladness  than  I  can  here  express. 


192  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SIEGE   OF   CORINTH. 

If  war  presents  anything  more  terrible  than  a 
disastrous  defeat,  it  is  a  great  victory.  During 
a  battle  its  participants  have  experienced  a  fluctu- . 
ation  of  hopes  and  fears ;  their  excitement  is 
intense,  and  their  nerves  are  strung  to  the  highest 
tension  until  hours  after  the  event.  There  then 
sets  in  a  period  of  reaction  and  depression. 
The  victors  have  possession  of  the  field  with  its 
terrible  harvest  of  wounds  and  death.  Immedi- 
ately after  a  battle  there  is  a  glow  of  exhilaration 
on  the  part  of  the  victors.  The  conflict  itself 
does  not  leave  so  horrible  an  im]3ression  as  do 
its  after  scenes,  where  the  awful  tide  of  battle 
has  receded,  leaving  its  stranded  wrecks  of  dead 
and  wounded  men,  its  broken  caissons,  dismounted 
guns,  its  limber-boxes,  broken  wheels,  disabled  bag- 
gage wagons  and  ambulances,  the  dead  and  bloated 
horses  and  mules,  broken  muskets  and  equipments, 
which  strew  the  muddy  roads  and  fields  where 
the  crimson  tide  had  ebbed  and  flowed. 

The  reaction  from  over  excitement  that  sets  in 
after  battle  is  a  potent  factor  in  preventing  pursuit 


SIEGE   OF  CORINTH.  193 

on  the  part  of  the  victors.  This  after  depression  is 
greater  among  raw  soldiers  than  veterans  because 
their  excitement  during  battle  is  greater,  hence 
their  inability  to  make  the  after  exertion  so  essential 
to  secure  the  fruits  of  a  victory,  and  the  necessity 
for  a  reserve  of  fresh  troojjs  to  secure  it. 

On  Tuesday,  the  8th  of  April,  our  regiment 
formed  a  part  of  the  force  which  under  General 
Sherman  advanced  over  the  Corinth  Road  in  pur- 
suit of  the  enemy. 

There  was  everywhere  evidence  of  their  haste 
to  get  away.  Abandoned  camps  with  hospital  flags 
for  their  protection  lined  the  road.  The  roads 
were  deluged  by  a  heavy  rainfall  and  the  ponder- 
ous vehicles  had  stirred  the  mud  into  a  batter 
something  like  that  of  hasty-pudding  before  it  is 
cooled. 

Where  the  Corinth  Road  forks,  our  cavalry  was 
sent  out  on  both  the  right  and  left.  Our  regiment 
advanced  over  the  right  fork  for  about  half  a 
mile  to  a  large  cleared  field  beyond  which  we 
saw  an  extensive  camp.  Here  the  enemy's  cavalry 
was  forming,  and  in  a  moment  more  they  charged 
two  Ohio  regiments  which  formed  our  advance, 
and  scattered  them  like  leaves  before  the  wind. 
When,  however,  they  met  our  main  line  they  were 
driven  back,  and  frightened  horses  with  empty 
saddles  were  seen  galloping  over  the  field ;  and 
their  general  hospital  camp  was  abandoned  to  our 
advance. 


194  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Here  we  found  some  three  hundred  of  the 
Confederate  wounded  and  also  forty  or  fifty  of 
our  own. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  our  men  were 
jaded  and  worn  with  fighting  and  marching. 
General  Sherman  received  an  agreement  of  sur- 
render from  the  medical  director  in  charge,  and 
we  were  ordered  to  return  to  our  camps. 

Previous  to  this,  Peter  and  I  had  obtained  per- 
mission to  go  through  the  hospital  tents,  to  see  if 
Matt  was  among  their  inmates. 

We  had  abandoned  the  search,  and  were  obeying 
the  order  to  "  fall  in,"  when  we  encountered  the 
stretcher  bearers  with  one  of  the,  as  we  thought, 
recently  wounded  cavalrymen,  to  whom  I  called 
Peter's  attention  on  account  of  the  waxen  pallor 
of  his  face. 

Peter  looked  and  started  toward  the  stretcher, 
saying  in  low,  guttural  tones  of  excitement, 
"  That  Wild  Dog  —  Spy  ;  Wild  Dog !  " 

I  said,  approaching  the  Confederate  attendants, 
who  had  set  down  the  stretcher,  "  What  officer  is 
this  ?  " 

"  This  is  Captain  Spring  of  the  — th  Louisiana 
Cavalry,"  was  the  answer. 

Peter  reiterated,  "  Him  Wild  Dog." 

I  saw  the  wounded  man  turn  a  startled  look 
towards  Peter.  The  name  "Spring"  seemed  to 
strike  a  chord  that  vibrated  in  some  undefined  way 
in  my  memory,  but  the  vibration  gave  no  definite 
tone. 


SIEGE  OF  CORINTH.  195 

"  Where  have  I  heard  that  name  before  ? "  I 
asked  Peter,  as  we  took  our  place  in  the  ranks  and 
marched  away. 

Peter  shook  his  head,  saying  again,  "Never 
'member  name.     He  Wild  Dog." 

He  persisted  in  connecting  this  wounded  Con- 
federate with  the  man  we  had  twice  before  met  in 
camp,  yet  this  did  not  explain  that  undefined  feel- 
ing that  I  had  heard  the  name  before  under  other 
circumstances.  I  finally  dismissed  the  matter 
from  my  mind,  with  the  belief  that  I  had  con- 
nected the  name  with  some  vague  impression 
rather  than  a  tangible  memory. 

There  was  little  doubt  that  we  had  seen  this 
officer  within  our  lines  under  suspicious  circum- 
stances, that  gave  color  to  Peter's  confident  asser- 
tion that  he  was  a  spy.  This  led  me  to  visit  the 
colonel's  quarters,  and  relate  to  him  the  incidents 
on  which  this  conviction  was  based. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  colonel's  tent,  a  tall  officer 
entered,  whereupon  the  colonel  called  me  back, 
saying,  "  Hold  on  a  minute,  Sergeant  Clifton." 

"  What's  wanted.  Colonel  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  the  General  hear  what 
you  have  just  told  me." 

So  I  repeated  the  story  in  the  presence  of 
General  Sherman,  he  constantly  interrupting,  by 
finishing  sentences  for  me,  and  cross-examining 
me  like  a  lawyer,  and  then  saying,  — 

"  Some  wagons   are  going  up  this  morning  to 


196  TOM  CLIFTON. 

bring  down  our  wounded,  and  I  will  instruct  the 
officer  to  take  you  with  him  to  inquire  about  this 
Confederate  officer." 

"  If  the  bird  will  wait  until  you  get  the  salt  on 
his  tail,"  said  the  colonel  laughingly. 

"  That's  all  right :  Medical  Director  Lyle  signed 
a  formal  surrender  of  the  camp  before  1  left,"  said 
General  Sherman.  Turning  to  the  desk,  he  wrote 
an  order  for  Corporal  Peter  Roy  and  Sergeant 
Thomas  Clifton  to  accompany  the  wagons  which 
were  going  to  the  rebel  hospital,  and  handed  it 
to  me. 

Upon  our  arrival  at  the  hospital,  I  went  confi- 
dently to  the  tent  to  which  the  wounded  officer 
had  been  carried,  but  he  was  not  there.  Thinking 
he  must  still  be  in  camp,  we  searched  every  nook 
and  corner,  but  without  finding  any  clew  to  his 
absence  other  than  that  given  by  the  hospital 
attendant  that  he  had  been  moved. 

"  Moved  where?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Don't  know,"  was  the  reply. 

I  then  went  to  the  Confederate  Medical  Direc- 
tor's office,  but  no  such  officer  had  been  recorded 
among  the  wounded. 

I  told  the  incident  to  the  lieutenant  in  charge 
of  our  guard,  and  he  said  laughingly,  "  Some 
shenanigan  about  it,  youngster." 

"  Isn't  there  some  way  to  compel  these  men  to 
tell  what  they  know?"  I  inquired  rather  angrily. 

"  The  man  has  skedaddled,  and  the  trouble  is  to 


SIEGE   OF  CORINTH.  197 

find  out  who  knows  about  it,  and  then  to  make 
them  tell,"  he  replied. 

Peter  growled  out,  "  Sly  fox,  Wild  Dog." 

We  returned  to  camp  no  wiser  than  when  we 
started,  although  when  I  narrated  to  the  colonel 
the  result  of  the  inquiry,  he  consoled  me  not  a 
little  by  saying,  "  It's  pretty  well  settled  that 
you  are  right  about  his  being  a  spy,  for  a  wounded 
man  ordinarily  would  not  be  removed  like  that 
if  not  menaced  by  some  danger." 

I  afterwards  learned  that  inquiries  were  set  on 
foot  regarding  this  man,  but  with  no  other  result 
than  leading  to  the  same  conclusion  that  Peter 
had  reached. 

Very  little  of  moment  occurred  fftr  the  next 
two  or  three  weeks,  which  were  spent  in  drill 
and  the  endless  round  of  camp  routine  —  scouring 
muskets,  brightening  equipments,  washing  clothes, 
and  discussing  the  battle. 

On  this  latter  subject  there  was  little  agreement 
except  that  we  had  beaten  the  enemy,  and  that 
we  were  in  some  instances  sadly  demoralized. 

The  Confederates  on  their  retreat  were  in  worse 
condition  than  we  were. 

The  effects  of  this  battle  on  the  morale  (that 
undefined  mental  quality  that  can  neither  be 
weighed  nor  measured,  but  which  Napoleon  de- 
clared was  to  the  physical  as  three  to  one),  was 
so  great  that  its  influence  in  determining  the 
character  of  the  Western  armies  thereafter  cannot 


198  TOM  CLIFTON. 

be  measured.  It  was  as  though  our  commander 
had  communicated  during  those  two  days  of  battle 
liis  own  dogged,  tenacious  spirit  to  that  army  — 
a  spirit  which  it  never  thereafter  lost. 

Whatever  else  can  be  said  of  that  great  com- 
mander, he  had  faith  in  his  success,  and  did  not 
believe  that  the  rebels  had  either  superiority  of 
spirit,  or  a  more  favorable  Providence  on  their  side. 

On  the  11th  General  Halleck  took  command 
of  the  three  armies  then  gathered  in  the  vicinity 
of  Pittsburg  Landing ;  viz.,  the  Army  of  the  Ohio 
under  Buell,  the  Army  of  the  Mississippi  under 
Pope  (with  headquarters  at  Hamburg,  four  miles 
above),  and  tlie  Army  of  the  Tennessee.  Grant 
was  ignored  and  superseded;  for  although  nomi- 
nally in  command  of  the  district,  he  was  really 
set  aside  by  the  pedantic,  impracticable  Halleck. 

The  Confederate  army  at  Corinth  was  mean- 
while re-enforced  and  intrenched.  Negroes  took 
the  places  of  white  teamsters,  who  were  now  put 
into  the  ranks. 

The  people  of  the  South-west,  however,  showed 
but  little  enthusiasm  in  sending  their  sons  to 
Beauregard's  army,  and,  if  possible,  still  less  in 
lending  their  negro  laborers  to  work  on  the 
fortifications,  or  as  teamsters.  They  felt  that 
they  could  not  spare  their  slaves  from  fields  and 
domestic  labors  without  starving  both  the  army 
and  themselves. 

Beauregard's  army   numbered  about  fifty  thou- 


SIEGE  OF  CORINTH.  199 

sand  men :  and  Corinth,  naturally  a  strong  position, 
had  been  made  still  stronger  by  all  the  arts 
known  to  military  ingenuity. 

This  town  lies  twenty-two  miles  by  wagon-road 
north-west  from  Shiloh.  It  is  about  four  miles 
south  of  the  dividing  line  between  Mississippi 
and  Tennessee,  and  at  the  junction  of  the 
Mississippi  and  Chattanooga  Railroads,  which  at 
that  point  cross  each  other. 

The  greater  part  of  the  country  was  covered 
with  forests,  in  which  clearings  had  been  made 
for  houses,  with  dense  underbrush  along  the 
lowland. 

Within  our  lines,  meanwhile,  the  frequency  of 
inspection  and  the  exasperating  fussiness  over 
seemingly  unimportant  details  foreboded  a  speedy 
advance  upon  the  enemy. 

At  last  the  order  to  move  came.  It  was  the 
4th  of  May  when  we  set  out  on  our  march  over 
the  marshy  roads,  through  a  wilderness  of  forests, 
towards  Corinth.  It  soon  began  to  rain  in  torrents, 
and  the  roads,  poor  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
now  became  bewilderingly  deep  with  mud.  The 
columns  struggling  through  this  mire,  the  stalled 
guns  and  teams,  the  violent  exclamations  of  team- 
sters, and  the  answering  "  he-haw  "  of  the  mules, 
painted  war  in  different  and  less  heroic  colors  than 
those  with  which  I  had  been  familiar  in  books. 

The  backwaters  of  the  Tennessee  had  destroyed 
bridges   and  overflowed   the   lowlands.     But  the 


200  TOM  CLIFTON. 

roads  were  hastily  corduroyed,  and  bridges  recon- 
structed, as  the  column  dragged  itself,  like  flies 
through  molasses,  across  the  muddy  country. 

I  had  never  before  marched  far  with  a  knapsack, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  I  discovered  that  I  was 
not  a  seasoned  vessel. 

This  knapsack  being  heavy  with  soldier  wealth, 
the  straps  galled  and  fretted  me  as  I  marched. 

The  sweat  streamed  down  my  face,  but  I  could 
get  at  no  handkerchief  to  wipe  away  the  torment- 
ing rivulets.  At  the  first  halt  I  tlirew  off  my 
knapsack  with  a  groan,  and  examined  it  in  order  to 
realize  fully  that  it  was  the  same  one  I  had  put  on 
at  starting  out. 

I  concluded  that  I  had  too  many  luxuries  for  a 
soldier,  and  threw  something  away  at  every  halting- 
place.  To  add  to  my  distress  my  army  shoes,  that 
worked  on  my  feet  like  a  pair  of  suction-pumps, 
had  made  two  enormous  blisters  that  broke  and 
left  exasperatingly  raw  sores. 

When  I  got  into  camp  the  first  night  I  wanted 
to  be  carried  home.  I  say  carried,  for  I  could  not 
have  walked  a  step  had  I  been  told  to  "  go  in  peace." 
I  grieved  that  I  had  thrown  away  the  rubber 
blanket  which  now  I  needed,  and  the  salve  which 
would  have  comforted  my  sore  heels.  But  at  the 
right  moment  Peter  opened  his  knapsack  and 
handed  them  both  to  me.  He  had  thoughtfully 
picked  them  up  and  gave  them  to  me  with  the 
laconic  admonition,  "  Boy  foolish  ;  load  grow  light 
by  and  by." 


SIEGE  OF  CORINTH.  201 

"  Yes ;  but  that  knapsack  has  nearly  killed  me 
before  I'm  used  to  it!  "  I  replied  dolefully. 

"  If  a  feller  wants  to  get  a  good,  solid  respect  for 
a  mule,  he  must  carry  a  knapsack  like  that  one," 
said  Sam  Ryder,  kicking  his  with  his  foot. 

I  was  not  the  only  one  with  whom  a  knapsack 
disagreed  by  any  means.  It  is  the  usual  com- 
plaint of  a  new  soldier  on  his  first  march. 

An  old  soldier  carries  only  needful  things,  but 
sticks  to  them  with  dogged  tenacity  because  they 
are  necessary  to  his  comfort.  During  the  resting- 
spells  when  it  did  not  rain  Peter  would  lie  down 
at  full  length,  saying,  "  Rest  all  over." 

"  Wall,  yes,"  assented  a  soldier  who  had  been 
at  Donelson  and  Fort  Henry,  "we  need  ittu,  fur  it's 
a  hard  road  to  trabble,  I  supposed  the  mules  did 
this  kind  o'  trucking.  I  tell  you,  we  soldiers  do  the 
work  and  the  officers  get  the  pay  and  the  glory, 
and  don't  you  forgit  it !  " 

Finally  one  afternoon  we  arrived  in  camp  and 
saw  the  enemy  intrenched  along  our  front,  and  we 
were  not  sorry,  because  the  heavy  marching  was 
for  a  time  over;  and  yet  we  had  marched  alto- 
gether less  than  twenty  miles,  a  distance  which 
many  of  us  a  year  after  could  have  covered  in  less 
than  a  day. 

On  the  18th  our  column  drove  the  enemy  from 
their  strong  position  at  the  Russell  House,  and 
then  we  began  fortifying. 

On    our   front,  on  a  high  ridge  overlooking  a 


202  TOM  CLIFTON. 

field,  was  a  double  log  house  from  which  the 
enemy  had  removed  the  roof  and  the  chinking 
between  the  logs,  thus  affording  a  block-house  for 
their  sharpshooters. 

On  the  southern  limit  of  this  field  were  dense 
underbrush  and  oaks,  which  the  enemy  held.  The 
ground  between  us  and  the  enemy  on  the  east, 
where  the  country  road  ran,  was  marshy,  and  this 
obliged  the  army  to  feel  its  way  cautiously  step  by 
step.  Our  troops  here  constructed  strong  defen- 
sive works,  laboring  night  and  day. 

Peter  and  I  were  detailed  with  others  as  sharp- " 
shooters  on  the  enemy  who  could  be  seen  around 
the  log   house   and   on   the   ridge,  annoying  our 
pickets. 

This  was  quite  exciting,  and  we  had  no  doubt 
that  our  proceedings  were  unpopular  with  the 
enemy,  for  their  bullets  would  come  humming 
around  us  occasionally  as  if  in  protest. 

From  our  position  we  could  plainly  hear  the 
beats  of  the  enemy's  drums  in  Corinth.  One  of 
the  men  we  met  among  the  sharpshooters  was 
known  as  Jack  Dillon,  formerly  a  locomotive 
engineer. 

"  These  generals  don't  know  everything ;  I  can 
give  them  points  !  "  said  Jack. 

"  What  about  ?  "  we  inquired. 

"  Why,  the  rebs  have  been  taking  their  truck 
out  of  Corinth  for  a  week,  and  I  have  told  them 
so." 


SIEGE   OF  CORINTH.  203 

"  How  do  you  know  that?"  I  inquired  incred- 
ulously. 

"  Why,  any  railroad  man  can  tell  whether  a  train 
is  loaded  or  empty  by  putting  his  ear  to  the  rails  ; 
and  those  trains  have  been  going  out  loaded  and 
coming  in  empty  for  a  week  past.  Those  fellers 
are  getting  ready  to  skedaddle,  and  don't  you 
forgit  it !  "  said  Jack ;  and  so  it  proved. 

On  the  27th  a  reconnoitring  force  found  the 
enemy's  camps  on  the  ridge  road  abandoned  and 
evidences  of  a  hasty  retreat.  They  had  not  re- 
lieved their  pickets,  and  most  of  them  were 
captured. 

On  the  30th  our  advance  found  Corinth  aban- 
doned, many  of  the  houses  in  flames,  and  piles  of 
cannon-balls,  salt,  sugar,  molasses,  and  other 
property  that  the  enemy  had  failed  to  destroy  or 
remove.  A  few  citizens  alone  remained  in  the 
town. 

The  rebel  army  had  mostly  escaped  across  the 
creek,  where  they  opened  on  the  town  with 
canister,  burning  the  bridge.  Many  of  their 
straggling  soldiers  were  left  in  the  woods  ;  a  large 
number  of  them  surrendered  with  great  cheerful- 
ness. General  Sherman  afterwards  reported  that 
if  these  men  were  disarmed  they  would  not  trouble 
us  much. 

Among  those  picked  up  by  my  company,  and 
who  afterwards  came  under  this  recommendation 
of  General  Sherman's,  was  a  queer-looking  Irish- 


204  TOM  CLIFTON. 

man.  His  head,  which  was  as  round  as  a  spheri- 
cal case-shot,  was  covered  by  a  short  growth  of 
bristling  black  hair.  His  beard  was  just  about 
a  match  for  his  hair.  His  nose  ran  upward  from 
the  roots  until  it  met  another  bone,  forming  an 
acute  angle.  The  short  black  teeth  of  his  lower 
jaw  shut  over  the  teeth  of  the  upper  jaw,  and  were 
constantly  exposed,  while  a  pair  of  twinkling  black 
eyes  looked  out  from  under  straight,  bushy  brows. 

"  How  came  you  in  the  Confederate  service  ?  " 
inquired  our  captain.     "  Did  they  invite  you  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  invited,  sor  !  I  was  just  tould  to  take 
a  gun,  sor,  and  sure  I  had  to,  sor !  " 

"  What  did  they  do  to  make  you  ?  You  don't 
look  Hke  a  man  that  could  be  persuaded  against 
his  will." 

"  Well,  sor,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  couldn't  live 
on  air,  and  I  couldn't  get  a  bit  to  eat  or  drink  until 
I  jined  'em,  sor." 

"  Couldn't  you  work  for  some  one  ?  " 

"  Nobody  wanted  a  white  man  ;  only  niggers  to 
work,  sor ;  they  said  they  must  f oight.  I  tould 
'em  I  was  a  Northern  man,  and  they  said,  '  North 
of  Ireland  likely.'  I  told  'era,  no  sor,  I  had  a 
likely  family  in  Minnesota  settled  on  a  farrum." 

"  I'm  from  Minnesota,"  I  said.  "  What  part  of 
the  country  do  you  belong  to  ?  " 

"  Well,  sor,  I  don't  just  remember,  for  I  was 
never  there ;  but  if  you  can  read,  sor,  perhaps  you 
can  tell  by  this  bit  of  a  paper,"  he  said,  handing 


SIEGE   OF  CORINTH.  205 

me  a  worn  and  crumpled  letter,  which  I  glanced 
at  carelessly,  and  was  about  to  return  without 
reading,  when  something  familiar  in  the  writing 
attracted  my  attention. 

I  read  and  gave  a  whoop  of  astonishment, 
exclaiming  to  Peter,  "•  This  is  Matt's  father !  This 
is  a  letter  my  father  wrote  to  him  years  ago.  It 
is  father's  handwriting  I  —  What  is  your  name  ?  " 
I  inquired  of  the  Irishman. 

"Michael  Ryan,"  he  replied,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation. 

When  I  explained  to  him  that  his  son  belonged 
to  our  regiment,  he  grasped  me,  and  began  hugging 
me,  and  crying  and  calling  me  "  his  own  dear 
Matt." 

When  I  could  get  out  of  his  clutches,  I  explained 
that  I  was  not  Matt,  but  that  Matt  had  been  miss- 
ing ever  since  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  taken  prisoner. 

"  Sure,"  said  Ryan,  "  if  I  had  known  that  he 
was  in  these  lines  a  prisoner,  I'd  a  got  to  you  with 
him  ! " 

Michael  Ryan  proved  to  be  an  odd  character, 
with  one  glaring  fault :  when  in  liquor  he  was 
likely  to  do  some  extravagant  thing,  which  in  his 
sober  moments  he  was,  or  at  least  ought  to  have 
been,  sorry  for. 

He  explained  that  he  had  started  for  Minnesota, 
but  on  arriving  at  the  Mississippi  River,  he  had 
fallen  in  with  some  "foine  byes,"  who  had  induced 


206  TOM  CLIFTON. 

him  to  go  down  to  New  Orleans,  instead  of  going 
up  to  St.  Paul ;  that  he  had  got  out  of  money, 
and  had  postponed  his  visit  to  his  wife  and  boy 
from  time  to  time. 

We  advised  Ryan  to  take  transportation  up  the 
river,  and  go  home  to  his  wife. 

He  hesitated,  and  then  said,  "  I'll  find  me  son 
Matt  first." 

"  What  will  you  do  for  a  living,  meanwhile  ?  " 

"Well,  sor,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  for  I'm  an 
honest  man,  and  I'll  not  decave  you,  I  loike  the 
grub  here,  and  I'll  stay  in  this  regiment  until  me 
son  Matt  comes  back."  And  thus  it  was  that  this 
man  who  called  himself  Michael  Ryan  enlisted  in 
our  regiment. 


IN  CAMP  NEAR  MEMPHIS.  207 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

IN   CAJNIP   KEAE,   MEJVEPHIS. 

Our  brigade,  now  attached  to  the  Fifteenth 
Army  Corps,  commanded  by  General  Tecumseh 
Sherman,  was  in  camp  on  the  line  of  railroad  near 
Memphis,  Tennessee.  Arras  were  stacked  in  the 
company  streets,  and  sentinels  were  seen  on  posts 
around  the  camp.  Although  it  was  the  last  of 
October,  it  was  still  uncomfortably  warm,  and 
those  boys  not  on  guard  duty  were  trying  to  keep 
cool  lying  off  under  their  tents  or  extemporized 
shelters  contrived  from  branches  of  trees  or  by 
uniting  several  tents. 

Some  of  us  were  writing  letters,  some  were 
sleeping,  others  playing  cards,  smoking,  or  telling 
stories  of  the  campaign. 

Soon  the  attitude  of  the  camp  changed  from 
that  of  quiet  to  one  of  bustling  excitement. 
The  mail  had  come.  Even  Peter  aroused  himself 
from  a  recumbent  attitude,  saying,  "  Here  come 
letters." 

Had  our  friends  at  home  known  how  disappointed 
their  boys  in  the  field  were  when  a  mail  did  not 


208  TOM  CLIFTON. 

bring  a  letter  from  home,  they  would  have  written 
oftener.  This  time  I  liad  two  or  three  letters  from 
home  —  one  from  my  father,  which  had  been  long 
delayed  by  mis-direction,  while  Michael  Ryan  had 
one  from  Mrs.  Ryan. 

By  the  delayed  letter  I  now  first  learned  of  the 
Indian  outbreak  and  massacre,  which  occurred  in 
Minnesota  that  fall,  from  which,  however,  our 
settlement  had  escaped.  My  father  wrote  that  a 
little  Indian  girl  had  come  across  the  prairie  bring- 
ing from  a  friendly  Indian  a  warning  message 
which  had  enabled  the  settlers  to  send  away 
the  women  and  children,  and  arm  those  who 
had  gathered  at  the  village  for  defence.  The 
Indians,  for  some  reason,  however,  did  not  molest 
them. 

He  expressed  his  disappointment  that  Michael 
Ryan  could  not  have  come  home  to  his  family, 
instead  of  enlisting,  and  also  spoke  of  the  grief 
felt  by  Mrs.  Ryan  that  Matt  had  not  been  heard 
from.  The  most  startling  part  of  the  letter  was 
that  parties  had  jumped  a  part  of  Matt's  and 
Peter's  claims,  and  were  intending  to  secure,  with 
false  evidence  and  perjured  affidavits,  the  title 
to  the  land.  I  remembered  that  at  one  time, 
when  settlers  had  ploughed  and  planted  some  of 
the  same  land.  Matt  and  Peter  had  declared  that 
there  was  land  enough,  and  they  would  not  inter- 
fere with  the  operation.  My  father  expressed  the 
wish   that   Peter   might   come    home   if    occasion 


"  •  The  murLliering  brutes,'  interjected  Micli;iel  Tiyan,  between  puffs 
of  his  pipe."  —  Page  209. 


IN  CAMP  NEAR  MEMPHIS.  209 

should  offer,  and  also  Matt,  if  he  should  return  to 
our  lines. 

I  read  the  letter  to  Peter,  who  replied  with  his 
usual  stoical  indifference  regarding  such  small 
matters  as  land.  Had  it  been  a  question  of  a  gun 
or  a  horse,  he  would  have  been  more  alarmed  and 
not  so  indifferent. 

"  Don't  you  understand,  Peter,"  I  said,  "they're 
stealing  your  farm  ?  " 

"The  murthering  brutes,"  interjected  Michael 
Ryan,  between  puffs  of  his  pipe,  and  still  looking 
at  his  letter  as  if  he'd  like  to  get  acquainted,  if  it 
was  all  the  same  to  the  letter. 

"  Land  'nuff ;  all  the  sky  to  breathe,"  said  Peter, 
with  his  head  erect,  and  inhaling  the  air. 

"  The  fact  is,  Peter,"  I  said,  "  I  believe  you 
would  be  glad  if  you  never  saw  that  farm  again." 

"What  matter?     Land  'nuff,  dig  grave  in." 

I  saw  it  was  of  no  use  to  try  to  make  Peter 
exhibit  a  lively  interest  in  land,  or,  rather,  in 
ownership.  He  had  within  him  a  savage  instinct 
that  the  land  was  made  for  man  only  when  he 
could  plant  it  and  use  it,  and  could  never  sympa- 
thize with  simply  a  paper  title  to  it.  "Was  it  in- 
stinct, or  was  it  the  natural  feeling  of  primitive 
man  ? 

Michael  Ryan  had  meanwhile  finished  his  pipe, 
and  was  holding  his  letter  by  one  corner,  with  his 
arm  extended  and  resting  on  his  knee.  Glancing 
at  him,  I  thought  that  although  perhaps  he  could 


210  TOM  CLIFTON. 

not  read  writing,  he  was  not  willing  to  admit  it. 
-  What  is  it,  Mike  ?  "  1  said. 

"  Look  this  letter  over,  and  see  what  you  might 
make  out  o'  the  bit  o'  writing." 

I  glanced  at  it,  and-  saw  that  it  was  dated  two 
weeks  later  than  my  own  letter,  and  on  reading  it 
I  gave  such  a  whoop  of  surprise  and  delight,  that 
Peter  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  gravely 
looked  me  in  the  face. 

"  Matt  has  written  horne  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

Michael  Ryan,  his  face  intense  with  interest, 
now  bent  toward  me  as  I  read  that  letters  had 
been  received  from  the  Confederate  lines,  saying 
that  Matt  had  been  wounded  and  captured  by  the 
enemy  at  Shiloh,  and  but  for  the  interference  of 
Lieutenant  Preston  (now  General  Preston  of  the 
Confederate  army),  he  would  have  lost  his  arm  by 
amputation.  He  expected  to  be  paroled,  but  some 
trouble  between  the  authorities  had  prevented.  The 
letter  also  mentioned  his  writing  to  me,  and  gave 
the  pleasant  information  that  he  expected  to  be 
paroled  soon. 

Soon  through  the  whole  camp  was  heard  the  hum 
of  voices.  "  Get  ready  for  dress  parade  !  "  said  the 
captain,  coming  down  through  the  company  street ; 
and  then  turning  to  me,  ''  Orderly,  there's  to  be 
inspection  to-morrow  morning." 

We  at  once  began  brightening  our  brasses  and 
buttons,  and  arranging  our  clothes  in  our  knap- 
sacks, so  that  the  clean  ones  should  come  on  the 


IN  CAMP  NEAR  MEMPHIS.  211 

top ;  scouring  our  bayonets  and  muskets  with  em- 
ery paper;  blacking  our  shoes  and  belts,  and,  as 
Corporal  Sam  Ryder  said,  "getting  into  a  sweat 
generally." 

The  next  day  at  inspection  the  preliminary  order 
had  just  been  given,  "  Guides  Posts !  Rear  open 
order !  March ! "  and  the  inspecting  officer  had 
begun  poking  around  in  our  knapsacks,  when  dark 
clouds  overspread  the  sky  and  it  began  to  sprinkle, 
wetting  the  clothing  in  the  open  knapsacks.  At 
this  Peter  deliberately  left  tlie  ranks  and  shut  the 
flap  of  his  knapsack,  and  then  gravely  resumed  his 
place  in  line. 

To  most  of  my  readers  this  would  look  like  a 
very  common-sense  proceeding  ;  but  common  sense 
and  military  exactions  are  often  in  conflict,  as  any 
one  having  experience  can  testify,  and  although 
Peter  was  in  many  respects  the  best  soldier  and 
non-commissioned  officer  in  the  regiment,  he  had 
not  learned  to  subordinate  his  common  sense  to 
military  exactions. 

There  was  a  smile  on  many  a  face  among  those 
who  knew  his  peculiarities,  yet  when  directly  after 
inspection  he  was  put  under  arrest,  the  boys  who 
liked  the  courageous  half-breed  could  not  find  any 
but  big  explosive  words  such  as  are  often  heard  in 
war  times,  but  which  are  as  improper  in  ordinary 
life  (or  at  any  other  time)  as  would  be  the  explo- 
sion of  shell  in  a  village  street,  or  of  muskets  in  a 
parlor. 


212  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Yet,  as  this  is  a  truthful  chronicle  of  life  in  the 
field,  I  must  confess  that  crisp  words,  hot  and  sul- 
phurous under  excitement  of  battle,  and  vexations 
caused  bj  military  restraint,  were  as  common  and 
improper  as  to  the  army  in  Flanders. 

I  went  to  my  rest  that  night  feeling  not  very 
good  natured.  In  the  morning  when  some  of 
our  older  fellows  were  remarking,  Eh  !  Oh  !  Igh  ! 
while  straightening  the  kinks  of  rheumatism  out 
of  their  joints,  it  made  me  wonder  why  in  all  the 
accounts  of  the  American  Revolution,  or  of  Napo- 
leon's campaigns  that  I  had  read,  there  had  been  no 
mention  made  of  rheumatism.  We  read  of  our 
heroes  going  barefooted  at  Valley  Forge,  and  of 
their  being  hungry,  but  not  a  word  about  rheuma- 
tism or  neuralgia.  History  is  silent  on  this  sub- 
ject. 

There  is  also  a  familiar  enemy  that  invades  a 
soldier's  traps  and  clothes  and  that  makes  him 
clinch  his  teeth  in  rage  more  frequently  than  does 
the  enemy  in  front  of  him ;  that  has  no  place  in 
history,  although  persistently  and  obnoxiously  pres- 
ent in  all  our  campaigns  under  Sherman  in  the 
West,  except  with  tenderfoot  regiments,  and  they 
were  soon  introduced. 

The  veterans  will  understand,  when  they  read 
this  book,  if  I  do  not  enter  into  particulars. 

Taking  it  all  in  all,  that  Monday  morning  in 
camp  was  gloomy,  but  it  seemed  to  effect  Peter 
less  than  it  did  the  explosive  Sam  Ryder. 


IN  CAMP  NEAR  MEMPHIS.  213 

"  What's  use  to  make  fuss  ?  breathe  and  eat 
same  under  'rest  as  'fore,"  said  Peter  phicidly. 

Still,  on  that  particular  morning  our  older  fel- 
lows were  not  in  good  humor,  and  were  growling 
with  a  persistency  common  to  soldiers,  when  we 
were  aroused  by  an  incident  that  brightened  up  the 
camp  as  though  the  sun  had  come  out  from  behind 
the  drizzling  clouds. 

It  was  while  INIichael  Ryan  was  groaning  with 
the  misery  in  his  back  and  legs  that  Corporal  Sam 
Ryder  stuck  his  head  into  our  tent,  saying,  "  Here 
they  are.  Matt ! " 

Rheumatism,  and  chills  and  fevers,  the  last  of 
which  I  had  had  a  touch  of  that  morning,  disap- 
peared as  if  by  magic.  Michael  forgot  his  pipe 
and  rheumatism  and  began  dancing  around  while 
I  was  hugging  Matt,  and  Peter  was  shaking  one 
hand  and  Sam  Ryder  the  other. 

When  Matt  saw  Michael  dancing  and  whooping 
like  a  wild  Indian,  he  said,  "  What  lunatic  asylum 
is  this  old  fellow  from?  " 

"  It's  a  lunatic  you  are  yourself  not  to  know 
your  own  father !  "  responded  Michael,  working 
convulsively  to  get  hold  of  Matt. 

Although  Michael  Ryan  exhibited  excitement, 
there  was  yet  something  in  his  face  or  manner 
which  I  could  not  understand. 

Finally,  when  Matt  comprehended  that  the 
"  man "  claimed  to  be  his  own  long-lost  father, 
he   greeted  him  very   heartily,  but  still  with  an 


214  TOM  CLIFTON. 

occasional  doubting  glance  from  under  his  brows, 
as  if  he  was  not  quite  satisfied  with  his  new 
relative. 

"  See  here,"  said  Matt ;  "  let  me  have  a  conver- 
sation with  me  father  alone.  I  want  to  ask  him 
some  questions." 

Was  it  possible  that  Matt  was  not  satisfied  with 
his  identity,  and  thought  this  man  was  merely  mas- 
querading as  his  father  ? 

When  Matt  finally  came  out  of  the  tent  from 
this  conference,  he  said,  "  Well,  Tom,  it  surely 
must  be  me  old  man ;  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't 
remember  him  as  me  father.  It  seems  to  me  that 
me  father  was  a  different  looking  man  ;  but  it  must 
be,  for  he  knows  all  about  my  mother  and  myself, 
and  seems  fond  of  me  too." 

We  were  all  glad  to  see  Matt;  and  not  least 
among  these  was  the  colonel,  formerly  the  captain 
of  our  company.  Colonel  Archer  having  been  pro- 
moted to  be  commander  of  the  brigade. 

During  the  day  Matt  told  me  how  he  had  been 
wounded  and  captured,  and  that  he  had  even 
been  carried  to  the  Confederate  amputating-table  ; 
but  as  the  surgeon  was  about  to  remove  his  arm 
he  objected,  as  the  bone  was  only  slightly  shattered. 
A  Confederate  ofiicer  who  was  slightly  wounded 
in  the  hand  was  standing  near,  and  Matt  recog- 
nized him  as  Lieutenant  Preston. 

Matt  told  him  who  he  was,  and  Preston  inter- 
posed with  the  surgeon  and  asked  liim  to  save  the 


IN  CAMP  NEAR  Memphis.  215 

arm  if  possible,  and  he  afterwards  liad  Matt  put 
under  tlie  charge  of  his  own  brigade  surgeon 
(for  he  was  now  a  general  of  a  brigade),  and  had 
treated  him  in  the  same  friendly  manner  that 
he  had  showed  towards  him  at  our  home. 

Matt  said  he  inquired  very  particularly  about 
me  and  my  family,  and  he  had  given  him  a 
letter  for  my  sister,  which  he  had  mailed  at 
Memphis  before  coming  to  camp. 

"  It  seems  queer  to  be  fighting  a  man  with  whom 
one  feels  so  friendly,"  said  Matt.  "  But  there  was 
one  thing  we  could  not  talk  about  without 
getting  excited,  and  that  was  the  Union  and 
slavery.  He  didn't  seem  to  have  any  sinse  left 
on  those  subjects.  These  Southerners  actually 
seem  to  think  that  their  States  are  bigger  than 
the  national  government,  and  that  slavery  is  better 
than  freedom.  " 

The  next  day  was  hot  and  fair.  Marching 
orders  came  to  the  brigade,  and  soon  our  knap- 
sacks were  packed  and  we  were  moving  towards 
Memphis.  The  long  lines  of  blue,  glistening  with 
equipments,  and  burnished  muskets  flashing  in 
the  sun,  marched  with  cadenced  step  from  its  old 
camping-place,  and  then  broke  into  route  step 
(with  the  swinging  lope  of  veterans),  filling  the 
road  to  Memphis. 

It  was  rather  a  bitter  pill  for  us  to  swallow 
when,  after  dress  parade  the  afternoon  after  our 
arrival  at   Memphis,  an  order  was  read   reducing 


216  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Peter  to  the  ranks  for  insubordination  and  conduct 
prejudicial  to  the  military  service.  Peter  himself 
exhibited  no  anger,  but  merely  said,  "  Rather 
keep  dry  than  be  sergeant,"  and  fell  into  the 
duty  of  a  private  in  line  with  so  much  good  will 
that  all  the  officers  and  men  who  knew  him 
respected  the  quiet,  uncomplaining  fellow.  With 
Peter  it  was  not  assumed.  He  simply  would  as 
soon  be  a  private  as  a  general :  he  was  not  proud 
or  ambitious  in  that  way  ;  but  if  a  man  had  pro- 
claimed him  a  coward  or  a  thief,  Peter  would  have 
been  in  such  a  rage  that  no  man  could  have  con- 
trolled him. 

We  were  soon  ordered  on  board  of  steamers  for 
active  duty  somewhere. 

Here  let  me  take  up  the  thread  of  military 
movements  that  my  young  readers  may  understand 
the  situation. 

About  the  middle  of  July,  General  Halleck, 
after  distributing  the  magnificent  army  of  one 
hundred  thousand  men  to  different  points  and 
directing  Buell  against  Chattanooga,  had  been 
called  to  Washington  to  assume  command  as 
general-in-chief  of  all  the  armies  in  the  field. 

General  Grant  was  given  command  of  the  dis- 
trict of  East  Tennessee,  and  we  even  then  thought 
there  was  likely  to  be  more  fighting  than  was 
healthy  under  that  indomitable  commander. 

For  a  while  after  the  fall  of  Corinth,  we  worked 
on  fortifications,  and  then.  May  30,  had  been  sent 


IN  CAMP  NEAR  MEMPHIS.  217 

near  Memphis,  where  we  were  wlien  tlie  battle  of 
Iiika  was  fought  on  the  19th  of  August  at  a  little 
railroad  town  of  that  name,  near  Corinth,  and  also 
when  the  Confederates  under  General  Price,  on 
October  3d,  attacked  Rosecrans,  who  was  holding 
Corinth. 

A  more  cautious  general  would,  if  put  in  Gen- 
eral Grant's  place  with  a  force  but  little  superior 
to  his  enemy,  have  thought  it  sufficient  to  guard 
his  territory  against  capture.  But  General  Grant 
had  that  faith  in  success  and  belief  in  the  justice 
of  his  cause  that  made  him  aggressive. 

After  the  battle  fought  by  Rosecrans  for  the 
protection  of  Memphis,  the  rebel  defeat  was  so 
complete  that  he  no  longer  feared  for  the  safety  of 
the  territory  within  his  department,  and  determined 
at  once  on  an  offensive  movement. 

By  moving  against  the  enemy  and  driving  them 
before  him,  he  reasoned  that  his  own  lines,  which 
must  otherwise  be  guarded,  would  almost  take  care 
of  themselves  by  the  fear  inspired  that  some  more 
vital  point  might  be  lost. 

The  result  of  this  reasoning  was  the  campaign 
against  Vicksburg.  This  was  an  important  posi- 
tion to  the  Confederates,  as  it  occupied  the  first 
high  land  near  the  river  below  Memphis.  It  was 
also  the  only  point  which  connected  the  territory 
of  the  Confederacy  divided  by  the  Mississippi,  and 
from  it  a  railroad  ran  East,  connecting  with  other 
roads  leading  to  all  points  in  the  Southern  States, 


218  TOM  CLIFTON. 

All  the  other  points  held  on  the  Mississippi  be- 
low were  simply  dependencies,  sure  to  fall  with 
the  capture  of  Vicksburg. 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.     219 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

CAMPAIGNING   AGAINST   VICKSBURG. 

The  campaign  against  Vicksburg  may  be  said 
to  have  begun  on  the  24th  of  December,  1862, 
when,  with  other  organizations  of  the  Fifteenth 
Army  Corps,  we  embarked  on  transports  at  Mem- 
phis, and  under  the  protection  of  a  formidable 
flotilla  of  gunboats  steamed  down  the  Mississijjpi 
River,  and  then,  turning  in  an  easterly  direction, 
went  up  the  Yazoo  River  some  twelve  miles. 

Here  on  the  swampy  bottoms,  at  the  foot  of 
the  Walnut  Hills,  we  disembarked,  and  moving 
through  the  cane-brakes  and  jungles  encountered 
the  enemy's  skirmishers. 

They  fled  before  us  like  flocks  of  sheep,  and  we 
were  at  first  much  elated,  anticipating  an  easy 
victory.  But  this  elation  was  not  of  long  dura- 
tion ;  for,  on  perceiving  their  strong  position, 
bolder  hearts  than  ours  would  have  desponded 
at  the  prospect. 

Here  were  muddy  bayous  passable  in  one  direc- 
tion only  by  narrow  levees,  and  in  another  by  a 
sand-bar,  where  the  enemy  could  shoot  down  our 
men  as  fast  as  they  set  foot  on  it. 


220  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Look  at  the  rebs  behind  the  levees  !  Gosh ! 
but  they've  got  a  soft  thing  of  iti "  exclaimed  Sam 
Ryder. 

"  Sure  enough ;  those  levees  which  they  built 
to  keep  the  Mississippi  out  of  their  cornfields  are 
first-rate  breastworks  to  keep  us  out  too,"  said 
Matt,  viewing  the  situation  with  unfeigned  disgust. 

Here  let  me  explain  that  these  levees  varied  in 
height  from  four  to  eighteen  feet,  and  had  been 
built  to  protect  the  country  against  high  water. 
They  had  exterior  angles,  like  fortifications,  and 
were  admirably  adapted  to  repel  an  invading  army, 
as  well  as  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi. 

Nor  was  this  anything  more  than  a  preliminary 
obstacle  ;  for,  above  tlie  wide  miry  bayous,  there 
were  rifle-pits  and  batteries,  while  an  abrupt  range 
of  hills  beyond  was  crowned  with  cannon.  The 
rough  sides  of  the  hills,  furrowed  with  gullies, 
were  further  protected  by  rifle-pits  and  artillery 
at  every  accessible  point.  In  view  of  all  these 
impediments,  one  of  our  Western  boys  was  justi- 
fied in  saying,  "  See  here,  fellers,  this  is  a  lay-out 
fur  a  lickin'  !  " 

Even  Peter,  ordinarily  patient  and  unflinching 
in  the  face  of  obstacles,  shook  his  head,  saying, 
"  Bad  place  for  fight." 

"  Yes,  the  idea  of  a  surprise  !  "  said  Sam  Ryder. 
"  Look  at  their  telegraph  stations  up  there  on  the 
hills  !  We  can't  make  a  move  but  them  plaguey 
fellers  will  tell  on  us  !  " 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.      221 

It  was  evident  that  they  were  at  that  very 
moment  eng.tged  in  telegraphing  every  movement 
of  our  gunboats  and  troops.  We  also  soon  dis- 
covered tliat  they  had  still  another  advantage  in 
the  fact  that  while  every  movement  of  our  troops 
was  visible  to  them,  they  could  move  their  own 
men  with  perfect  security  and  secrecy ;  for  where 
the  levees  were  continuous,  as  they  Avere  along 
the  Mississippi  and  the  bayous  fiom  Vicksburg  to 
Haynes  Bluff,  a  road  behind  them  enabled  the 
enemy  to  move  from  point  to  point  with  perfect 
security,  as  if  by  a  covered  \\ixj. 

Their  right  was  a  series  of  batteries  and  forts 
seven  miles  above  us  on  the  Yazoo  River;  while 
on  their  left  were  the  hills,  two  hundred  feet  high, 
on  which  Vicksburg  was  situated.  Tlie  enemy  had 
improved  all  these  naturally  strong' defensive  posi- 
tions with  consummate  skill. 

During  the  first  two  days  we  were  engaged  in 
reconnoitring ;  and  all  this  time  we  could  hear 
railroad  trains  coming  in  and  going  out  of  Vicks- 
burg, showing  that  they  were  continually  receiv- 
ing re-enforcements,  and  that  every  hour's  delay 
made  our  task  the  harder. 

On  the  29th  of  December,  Sherman  ordered  an 
assault. 

Blair's  brigade  of  Steele's  division  went  in  on 
the  left,  and  DeCourcey's  brigade  of  Morgan's 
division  on  the  right. 

Over  tangled  abatti^  of  cotton-wood,  through  the 


222  rOM  CLIFTON. 

quicksands,  mud,  and  freezing  waters  of  the  bayou, 
while  the  enemy  rained  on  them  ^eath-dealing 
missiles,  these  brave  men  advanced  with  desperate 
heroism,  piercing  two  lines  of  the  enemy's  rifle- 
pits,  and  were  brought  to  a  halt  at  last  only  at 
their  main  earthworks. 

Our  regiment,  which  was  sent  to  reconnoitre  the 
woods,  had  crossed  the  bayou  on  a  log,  and  had 
skirmished  with  the  enemy,  driving  him  across  the 
larger  bayou,  when  a  heavy  discharge  of  musketry 
drove  us  back,  killing  one  man  and  wounding 
several.  A  shot  here  grazed  my  right  fore-arm, 
making  a  painful  though  not  dangerous  wound. 
It  was  the  first  scratch  I  had  received  during  my 
military  service,  and  gave  me  trouble  later,  from  not 
being  properly  cared  for. 

We  were  soon  ordered  to  fall  back  to  our  old 
positions.  I  have  since  learned  that  General  Sher- 
man meditated  another  attack  that  night  in  con- 
junction with  the  gunboats ;  but  on  account  of 
the  moonlight,  which  would  make  us  visible  to  the 
enemy,  the  idea  was  abandoned. 

That  night  a  disagreeable,  chilly  rain  came  on. 
The  next  day  the  weather  cleared  up  and  was 
warm,  but  the  prospect  of  success  looked  discour- 
aging to  us. 

"  If  we  have  two  or  three  days'  rain  here,  we'd 
have  all  we'd  want  to  do  to  swim  away !  "  growled 
Jim  Fowler,  one  of  our  Western  men. 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.      223 

"  Sho,  now,"  said  Sam  Ryder  incredulously,  "you 
think  you're  talking  to  horse-marines  perhaps." 

"  Horse-marines,  or  mud-marines,"  said  Jim. 
"I'll  'low  I've  seen  the  Mississippi  chin  deep 
in  such  places  as  this,  in  less  than  three  days  of 
rain." 

Peter,  who  had  examined  the  trees  in  the  low 
timbered  ground  where  we  had  bivouacked,  soon 
corroborated  the  statement  of  Jim  Fowler  by  point- 
ing to  the  water-stains  on  the  trees  five  and  six 
feet  above  our  heads,  saying,  "  Big  rain,  water 
'way  up  there  !  " 

The  next  day,  in  full  sight  of  the  enemy,  our 
troops  re-embarked,  steamed  down  the  Yazoo  River, 
and  "  tied  up,"  as  our  Western  boys  called  it,  at 
Milliken's  Bend. 

From  this  point  our  flotilla  of  transports,  accom- 
panied by  gunboats,  once  more  steamed  up,  and  in 
a  few  hours  were  going  up  the  Arkansas  River,  to 
attack  the  enemy  at  Arkansas  Post. 

Here  the  enemj'  was  found  in  a  bastioned  fort, 
placed  in  a  strong  position  at  a  bend  commanding 
the  river  and  surrounded  with  deep  ditches.  A 
long  line  of  intrenchments  protected  his  flanks. 

Here  we  attacked  by  land  and  water,  compelling 
the  surrender  of  the  fort,  with  five  thousand  men 
and  all  their  munitions  of  war.  The  services  per- 
formed by  our  regiment  here  were  comparatively 
light,  although  not  without  danger. 

An  incident,  however,  occurred  which  concerns 


224  TOM  CLIFTON. 

one  of  our  characters.  We  had  been  sent  forward 
and  deployed  nearly  east  of  Fort  Hiiidman.  The 
ground  in  our  front  and  on  our  flank  was  wooded, 
and  slightly  ascending  towards  the  fort.  Here  we 
Avere  ordered  forward  to  draw  the  enemy's  fire. 
With  this  purpose  we  threw  out  skirmishers,  and 
advanced  fifty  yards,  firing  as  we  advanced. 

The  enemy  getting  good  range  of  our  line,  re- 
plied with  shot  and  shell,  and  compelled  us  to  fall 
back.  As  we  were  doing  this  a  battery  of  ten- 
pound  Napoleon  guns  came  galloping  up  and  went 
into  position  near  us,  then  w7m-7'-r-r  chug  hang  !  came 
a  shell,  striking  a  limber-chest,  exploding,  killing 
and  wounding  most  of  the  men  on  the  gun. 

At  a  word  from  our  captain.  Matt  sprang  forward, 
and  calling  to  Peter,  with  other  of  our  men,  he  be- 
gan to  serve  the  gun  so  effectually  that  the  enemy 
were  driven  from  their  pieces  at  one  part  of  the 
fort. 

The  next  day  at  noon  we  formed  the  reserve 
that  followed  three  other  regiments  in  the  storming 
of  the  enemy's  works.  After  an  obstinate  fight 
of  nearly  three  hours  we  captured  the  works  with  a 
loss  of  only  five  men  of  our  company  killed  and 
wounded. 

Michael  Ryan  during  the  charge  had  left  the 
ranks,  and  yelling  like  mad,  rushed  forward,  and 
was  one  of  the  first  men  on  the  parapet  at  Fort 
Hindman.  He  captured  the  colors  of  a  Tennessee 
regiment,  and  afterward  said,  "  Byes,  I  tuck  the 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.      225 

fort  all  mesilf,  barriii'  I  was  supported  by  a  few 
regiments." 

The  captain  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  An  insub- 
ordinate rascal !  " 

After  this  we  returned  to  Milliken's  Bend  on 
the  transports,  and  freely  criticised  the  campaign. 

This  attack  on  Vicksburg  had  developed  the 
difficulty  of  capturing  the  place. 

It  stood  upon  an  almost  inaccessible  plateau, 
two  hundred  feet  above  the  river;  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  formidable  artificial  and  natural  de- 
fences, rendered  almost  impregnable  by  a  vast 
network  of  bayous  and  marshes  which  covered 
the  entire  space  between  us  and  Vicksburg,  north 
and  south,  and  from  the  Yazoo  to  the  Mississippi, 
east  and  west.  Our  indomitable  commander  had 
at  last  learned  that  a  direct  attack  anywhere 
between  Harris  Bluff  and  Warrentown  was  folly, 
and  he  showed  no  disposition  thereafter  to  repeat 
the  experiment. 

The  next  effort  of  the  army  was  directed  to 
turning  Vicksburg  from  the  south  side. 

If  my  readers  will  look  at  a  map  of  this  region 
they  will  find  that  the  west  bank  of  the  crooked 
Mississippi  River  from  Milliken's  Bend,  above 
Vicksburg,  to  Carthage  below,  resembles  in  out- 
line the  closed  fist  of  the  right  hand  with  the  palm 
upward  and  the  thumb  extended. 

The  thumb  represents  tlie  tongue  of  land  on  the 
Louisiana  side,  lying  in  a  loop  of  the  river  com- 


226  TOM  CLIFTON. 

manded  by  Vicksburg ;  while  the  city  and  the 
batteries  are  opposite  the  nail  of  the  thumb. 

Grant  first  endeavored  to  tuin  these  batteries, 
in  order  to  get  our  transports  and  gunboats  safely 
below  them.  His  plan  was  to  cut  a  canal  at  the 
first  joint  of  the  thumb,  run  the  Vicksburg  batter- 
ies with  his  transports,  and  with  a  naval  force 
attack  it  from  the  south. 

'The  Mississippi  River  from  Milliken's  Bend  to 
New  Carthage  makes  a  tortuous  course,  forming 
peninsulas  and  horseshoe  bends  innumerable ;  and 
these  bends  are  cut  up  by  bayous,  and  the  lowland 
is  at  times  overflowed  by  the  river.  Among  these 
twists  in  the  river  is  one  that  forms  the  long 
tongue  of  land  opposite  Vicksburg. 

At  first,  following  Grant's  original  plan,  an  at- 
tempt was  made  to  cut  a  canal  across  this  tongue 
through  which  to  pass  our  naval  forces  and  trans- 
ports without  exposing  them  to  the  fire  of  the 
enemy.  After  months  of  wearisome  work  this  was 
abandoned  on  the  27th  of  March,  and  another  plan 
for  a  campaign  against  Vicksburg  was  adopted, 
which  proved  as  fruitful  as  it  was  glorious  to  our 
arms,  and  of  which  I  shall  speak  in  the  next  chapter.' 

Our  corps  was  set  at  this  task,  which  kept  us  at 
work  months,  and  until,  as  Sam  Ryder  said,  the 
shakes  caused  by  the  fever  and  ague  which  our 
men  got  here  was  the  only  thing  which  up  to 
this  time  had  made  Vicksburg  tremble. 

When  the  waters  of  the  river  were  let  into  our 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.      227 

big  ditch,  it  was  found  that  the  current  was  at 
right  angles  with  it,  and  that  its  lower  end  was 
easily  commanded  by  the  bluffs  on  the  Mississippi 
side. 

After  two  months'  hard  labor  the  waters  did  not 
run,  and  our  efforts  proved  a  blank  failure. 

The  high  waters  of  the  Mississippi  having  sub- 
sided, our  plucky  commander,  in  April,  1863,  after 
many  failures  in  other  directions,  which  I  shall 
not  detail,  adopted  the  bold  plan  of  marching  his 
army  across  from  Milliken's  Bend  (represented 
by  the  third  knuckle  of  the  upturned  hand)  to 
Carthage  (at  the  root  of  the  thumb  near  the  hand). 
The  gunboats  and  transports  were  to  run  the 
Vicksburg  batteries  in  the  niglit,  and  join  our  land 
forces  at  Grand  Gulf,  there  to  assist  in  operating 
against  Vicksburg  from  the  eastern  side  of  the 
river. 

When,  however,  New  Carthage  had  been  reached 
by  the  first  men  who  marched  across  to  this  point, 
it  was  found  that  a  break  in  the  bayou  here  had 
flooded  the  country,  and  had  made  an  island  of 
that  place.  This  necessitated  a  long  march  to 
Hard  Times  below  Perkins's  Plantation. 

The  gunboats  failing  in  an  attack  on  Grand 
Gulf,  next  ran  these  batteries  in  the  night,  and, 
with  the  transports,  assisted  in  ferrying  the  army 
across  the  Mississippi. 

General  Grant's  first  step  in  working  out  his 
purpose  was  to  capture  Grand  Gulf  for  a  base  of 
supplies. 


228  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Bruiusburg,  below  Grand  Gulf,  on  the  east  side 
oi  the  Mississippi  (the  point  where  General  Grant's 
forces  were  finally  landed  April  30),  was  two  miles 
from  the  high  land  which  furnished  a  solid  base 
for  military  operations. 

To  prevent  his  reaching  this  safe  base,  the 
enemy  came  out  from  their  works  to  intercept  and 
attack  him. 

Port  Gibson  was  the  nearest  point  to  the  bridges 
by  which  they  could  do  this,  across  the  bayou 
Pirrie,  a  navigable  stream  just  above  their  landing- 
place. 

Here  McClernand's  corps  and  a  portion  of 
McPherson's  were  thrown  forward,  and,  attacking 
the  Confederates,  defeated  them  and  captured 
Port  Gibson.  The  position  of  the  enemy  was 
turned  by  this  defeat;  they  therefore  abandoned 
Grand  Gulf,  burned  the  bridges  across  the  bayou, 
and  were  soon  found  to  be  covering  a  retreat  on 
Vicksburg. 

Our  corps,  which  at  this  time  had  not  begun  its 
march  to  Bruiusburg,  had  been  instructed  to  make 
a  feint,  by  use  of  the  transports  and  gunboats  at 
Haynes  Bluff,  in  order  to  detain  as  many  of  the 
enemy  around  Vicksburg  as  possible,  as  well  as  to 
deceive  them  regarding  Grant's  real  purpose. 

We  performed  this  work  satisfactorily,  and  were 
soon  marching  to  join  Grant  at  Bruiusburg. 

Our  division,  however,  then  under  command  of 
General  Frank   P.  Blair,  Jr.,  was   left  behind  to 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.      229 

garrison  Milliken's  Bend,  until  relieved  by  troops 
from  Memphis ;  the  other  division  joined  General 
Grant  at  Grand  Gulf  shortly  after  its  fall  and 
several  days  before  our  arrival. 

When  our  division  began  its  march  of  sixty- 
three  miles  along  the  bayous  to  Hard  Times,  the 
roads,  which  for  some  time  had  been  intolerable, 
were  in  fairly  good  condition. 

One  afternoon,  after  a  long  march,  we  had  halted 
with  our  train  at  a  magnificent  plantation  near 
the  lower  end  of  Lake  Vidal  near  Perkins's,  en  route 
for  Hard  Times,  to  join  in  that  adventure  of  arms, 
the  glorious  and  final  campaign  against  Vicksburg. 

The  fine  plantations  along  the  bayous,  which  had 
been  abandoned  by  their  owners,  were  delightful 
halting-places.  Corn  for  the  horses  was  found  in 
the  barns,  and  the  sprouting  grain  afforded  them 
forage. 

On  this  occasion  I  called  the  roll,  and  re- 
ported to  the  captain  for  the  second  time  during 
the  week,  "  Private  Michael  Ryan,  absent  without 
leave."  The  captain  said  nothing,  but  I  thought 
I  saw  something  in  his  face  that  did  not  promise 
pleasant  things  for  Private  Ryan. 

And  now  let  me  confess  that  Ryan  was  a  great 
disappointment  to  Matt.  I  had  before  our  march 
received  promotion  as  first  sergeant  of  Company 
"  B,"  which  promotion  by  right  belonged  to  Matt, 
for  he  was  a  better  drilled  man  and  a  better  soldier 
than  I  was. 


S30  TOM  CLIFTON. 

When  I  said  to  our  captain  that  Sergeant 
Matthew  Ryan  deserved  this  promotion  rather 
than  myself,  the  captain  replied,  "  Ah,  yes ;  but 
there  are  other  considerations,  Sergeant  Clifton. 
I  have  no  prejudice.  Ryan  has  been  an  excellent 
soldier,  none  better.  He  has  readiness  to  act  at 
the  right  moment  and  courage  equal  to  any  one, 
but "  — 

"  The  way  he  served  that  battery  when  the  chief 
of  the  piece  was  killed,  captain.  You  said,  when 
the  artillery  officer  complimented  him,  that 
Matthew  Ryan  was  a  born  soldier." 

"Yes,"  said  the  captain,  "but  not  a  born  officer. 
The  first  sergeant  of  a  company  is  in  the  line  of 
promotion  as  a  second  lieutenant." 

I  now  understood  the  captain's  disinclination  to 
promote  Matt ;  for  the  truth  must  be  told  that 
Private  Ryan  was  at  times  both  drunken  and  in- 
subordinate, and  it  was  felt  by  the  officers  that  it 
would  not  be  agreeable  for  them  to  associate  on 
familiar  terms  with  one  whose  father  was  liable  to 
be  under  arrest  or  to  be  punished,  possibly  shot, 
for  absenting  himself  without  authority  while  be- 
fore the  enemy. 

Michael  Ryan  had  shown  himself  to  be  possessed 
of  reckless  courage,  and  this  was  the  only  quality 
he  seemed  to  have  in  common  with  Matt.  He  also 
had  a  quaint  and  ready  wit  and  humor  which  had 
enabled  him  to  get  through  some  hard  spots  with- 
out punishment.     There  was  about  Michael,  how- 


CAMPAIGNING  AGAINST   VICKSBURG.      231 

ever,  an  indescribable  something,  which,  as  Sam 
Ryder  said,  made  you  think  he  was  "playing  it," 
and  that  his  sentiments  as  expressed,  as  well  as  his 
acts,  were  for  eJEfect.  On  this  occasion,  before  dark- 
ness set  in  we  heard  the  sharp  click  of  oars  from 
the  lake ;  and  a  boat  soon  was  seen  near  the 
plantation  landing. 

Michael  Ryan  sprang  from  it  upon  the  levee, 
loaded  down  with  chickens  and  ducks.  He  coolly 
presented  the  colonel  and  captain  each  with  a  pair, 
saying,  "  Now,  captain  dear,  it's  starvin'  ye'd  be  if  I 
didn't  attend  to  yer  feed." 

It  is  very  seldom  that  a  soldier,  officer  or  pri- 
vate, on  the  march,  can  resist  persuasions  of  this 
kind,  and  so  Private  Ryan  escaped  once  more  with 
only  a  sharp  reprimand. 

"  There's  a  rod  in  pickle  for  him  yet,"  said  Sam 
Ryder;  "the  captain  wanted  the  ducks  and 
chickens,  but  he'll  not  forget  Michael,  for  all 
that." 

Michael  went  from  bad  to  worse,  to  Matt's  sor- 
row and  disgust ;  and  although  he  escaped  pun- 
ishment for  a  time,  he  was  finally  brought  to 
judgment,  though  not  punishment,  as  will  appear 
in  the  progress  of  this  narrative. 

We  arrived  at  last  at  Hard  Times  with  our  train, 
and  were  slowly  ferried  over  to  Grand  Gulf,  where 
we  will  once  more  take  breath  and  look  over  the 
situation  of  affairs  on  our  arrival. 


232  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE  OF  ARMS. 

It  was  May  7  when  we  arrived  at  Grand  Gulf, 
and  with  a  train  of  two  hundred  wagons  set  out 
to  join  our  comrades  in  that  great  adventure  of 
arms,  the  final  campaign  against  Vicksburg. 

The  boldness,  originality,  and  daring  of  Grant's 
plans  will  be  seen  when  we  consider  that  the  army 
he  landed  at  Bruinsburg  with  which  to  operate 
against  the  enemy  on  the  30th  of  April  numbered 
but  a  little  over  thirty  thousand  men.  With  this 
army  he  began  a  campaign  over  a  difficult  country, 
easy  of  defence,  against  an  enemy  of  sixty  thou- 
sand, occupying  strong  defensive  positions,  at 
Grand  Gulf,  Jackson,  Vicksburg,  and  Haynes  BlufP. 

It  is  an  elementary  maxim  of  ordinary  war  that 
great  armies  operating  in  an  enemy's  country 
should  keep  open  a  base  of  supplies,  with  safe 
and  protected  communications  thereto,  from  which 
to  receive  food  and  ammunition.  But  when  landed 
at  Bruinsburg,  the  Union  army  had  a  great  river 
and  its  enemy  at  Vicksburg  between  it  and  its 
base  of  supplies. 

General  Grant  had  originally  planned  to  make  a 


THE   GREAT  ADVENTURE  OF  ARMS.      233 

new  base  at  Grand  Gulf  and  there  await  the  com- 
ing of  General  Banks's  force  from  Port  Hudson. 
He  soon  resolved  that  time  was  of  more  impor- 
tance than  these  re-enforcements,  and  that  to  be 
successful  he  must  fight  and  b^at  tlie  enemy  in 
detail  before  they  had  time  to  fortify  or  concentrate 
to  resist  his  advance. 

To  assist  in  the  general  purposes  of  this  cam- 
paign, and  to  distract  and  hinder  the  enemy,  on 
the  17th  of  April  Colonel  Grierson  had  been  sent 
on  a  cavalry  raid  through  the  interior  of  Missis- 
sippi, and  had  aided  powerfully  in  preventing  the 
early  concentration  of  re-enforcements  against  Gen- 
eral Grant's  army  by  breaking  the  enemy's  lines  of 
communication. 

Grant's  army  had  started  out  while  its  trains 
were  still  west  of  the  Mississippi ;  and  his  men  had 
less  than  an  average  of  three  days'  rations  in  their 
haversacks,  and  hence  depended  largely  on  the 
country  for  their  food. 

There  were  no  trains  for  ammunition,  and  so 
these  had  to  be  extemporized  from  the  teams  found 
in  the  country  through  which  they  were  operat- 
ing. 

On  the  13th  of  May,  McPherson,  commanding 
the  Seventeenth  Army  Corps,  had  fought  and 
defeated  the  enemy  near  Raymond.  The  capture 
of  this  place  gave  us  control  of  a  system  of  roads 
branching  out  in  every  direction.  Up  to  this  time 
the  army  had  hugged  the  Big  Black  River  (which 


284  TOM  CLIFTON. 

runs  nearly  parallel  to  the  Mississippi),  guarding 
all  its  ferries  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  getting  in 
our  rear  and  intercepting  our  communications  with 
Grand  Gulf. 

Genei'al  Grant,  discovering  that  to  guard  these 
communications  might  cost  him  so  much  in  time 
and  men  as  to  defeat  his  main  purpose,  at  once 
boldly  decided  to  have  no  communication  for  the 
enemy  to  intercept;  he  therefore  cut  loose  and 
turned  his  whole  column  towards  Jackson. 

In  the  rain  and  mud  of  the  13th  and  14th,  Sher- 
man and  McPherson  marched  their  men  to  the 
outer  defences  of  the  state  capital,  attacking  at 
once  and  capturing  the  place. 

Our  division  had  reached  Grand  Gulf  on  the 
7th  of  May,  and  at  once  began  its  march  to  rejoin 
our  commander  of  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps. 
The  first  three  miles  out  the  roads  were  uphill  and 
rough,  but  they  improved  as  we  advanced.  Eight 
miles  out  we  took  the  road  that  forked  to  the  right. 
Some  uneasiness  was  felt  for  fear  the  enemy  might 
attack  our  flank.  The  roads  were  dusty,  the  wea- 
ther in  the  middle  of  the  day  hot,  but  the  morn- 
ings and  evenings  were  comfortably  cool,  and 
water  was  very  scarce  except  such  as  fell  from  the 
sky. 

The  temptation  to  straggle  was  under  such  cir- 
cumstances very  great,  especially  among  those  who 
had  not  had.  as  Sam  Ryder  sarcastically  expressed 
it,  "  all  independent  ideas  drilled  out  of  them." 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE  OF  ARMS.      285 

]\Iost  of  the  roads  ran  along  the  tops  of  ridges, 
and  the  country  between  them  was  covered  with 
an  impenetrable  thicket,  which,  though  it  presented 
some  disagreeable  possibilities,  liad  the  compensat- 
ing advantage  of  preventing  the  eneiu}-  from  at- 
tacking our  flank. 

■The  same  day  that  Sherman  and  McPherson 
liad  captured  Jackson,  we  readied  New  Auburn, 
where  we  joined  forces  with  McClernand's  corps, 
\\\i\\  our  trains  loaded  with  rations  for  the  army. 
These  were  the  only  supplies,  other  than  those 
gathered  from  the  country  and  carried  in  haver- 
sacks, received  by  the  army  during  the  campaign. 

On  our  way  to  join  our  corps  we  naturally 
struck  the  left  wing  of  the  army ;  for  after  the 
fall  of  Jackson  the  army  faced  west,  thus  bringing 
Sherman's  corps  on  the  extreme  right. 

The  fall  of  Jackson  had  not  only  cut  the  rebel 
line,  but  had  separated  Johnston  from  Pemberton, 
and  had  also  cut  the  railroad  communication 
between  Vicksburg  and  the  territory  cast  of  the 
Mississippi. 

When  we  came  up  with  the  trains  of  McCler- 
nand's corps  they  presented  a  grotesque  and 
motley  spectacle. 

The  vehicles  consisted  of  all  kinds  of  convey- 
ances from  an  ordinary  farm  wagon  to  an  aristo- 
cratic barouche.  Some  had  only  a  pair  of  wheels 
on  which  was  fastened  a  large  box  of  boaids.  The 
animals  consisted  of  horses,  mules,  oxen,  and  some- 


236  rOM  CLIFTON. 

times  cows,  and  were  hitched  to  these  vehicles  by 
straw  collars,  cotton  and  tarred  ropes,  or  strips 
of  heavy  cotton  cloth,  and  in  some  instances  by 
plough  harnesses,  and  occasionally  by  handsome 
silver-plated  ones. 

To  an  aristocratic  carriage  piled  high  with 
cartridges  there  would  be  hitched  a  pair  or  more 
of  grotesquely  harnessed  mules,  while  a  handsome 
harness  would  be  seen  upon  mules  drawing  an 
old  farmer's  wagon  of  antiquated  device. 

The  provisions  carried  by  the  men  were  as 
varied  as  their  equipages.  Some  had  hitched 
behind  the  teams  bleating  sheep  or  cows,  strug- 
gling to  get  away,  while  across  the  shoulders  of 
the  men,  as  well  as  on  the  backs  of  mules  and  other 
animals  of  these  trains,  were  seen  ducks,  geese, 
hens,  and  chickens,  some  alive  and  others  dressed 
for  the  pot. 

The  soldiers  seemed  to  enjoy  the  grotesqueness 
of  these  trains,  and  would  have  enjoyed  them  much 
more,  no  doubt,  had  they  not  been  so  hurried. 

Matt  declared  tliat  the  army  was  like  the  locusts 
of  Egypt  that  my  father  had  once  preached  about : 
they  devoured  every  green  thing  except  the  peo- 
ple, who  didn't  always  wait  for  us. 

The  thought  of  the  poor  people,  pillaged  be- 
cause of  the  necessities  of  our  campaign,  where 
our  armies  were  mostly  subsisting  on  the  coun- 
try, did  not  trouble  me  then  so  much  as  it  did 
afterwards. 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE   OF  ARMS.      237 

One  of  the  Thirteenth  Army  Corps,  whom  I 
had  met,  said  to  me,  "  I  tell  3^ou,  business  is  hum- 
ming in  this  country  !  Every  mill  from  a  coffee- 
mill  to  a  grist-mill  is  a-grinding  corn  for  army 
johnny-cake." 

"  You've  got  enough  to  eat,  I  suppose?  "  I  inter- 
I'osfated. 

"  See  here,  suppose  you  give  me  a  handful  of 
coffee  for  this  chicken  all  ready  for  the  pot,"  was 
the  reply  of  the  Thirteenth  Corps  man. 

I  gave  him  the  coffee,  and  thanked  him  for  the 
liberal  exchange,  at  which  he  replied,  "  Stranger, 
I'm  ashamed  to  look  a  chicken  or  sheep  in  the 
face,  we've  killed  and  eaten  so  many  of  'um.  I 
never  want  to  see  a  chicken  asrain  as  lone  as  I 
live.  Hardtack  and  salt  bacon's  good  enough  fur 
me.     I  ain't  proud,  I  ain't,  'bout  grub." 

At  Auburn  some  of  the  people,  and  among  them 
many  women,  came  out  to  see  the  Yankee  army. 
One  little  girl  said,  '•  Do  you  Yanks  always  go 
around  taking  other  people's  fixin's  to  eat?  " 

The  women  were  good-looking  and  not  averse 
to  being  seen  by  the  Yankee  soldiers. 

''  Do  you  lay  around  on  the  ground  at  home  ?  " 
asked  a  pretty,  black-eyed  miss  curiously. 

"No,"  said  Matt,  "and  wouldn't  here  if  we  had 
time  to  accept  an  invitation  to  visit  you." 

"  What  makes  you  tote  around  in  such  a 
hurry  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Got   to    gobble    up    Pemberton's    army,"    ex- 


238  TOM  CLIFTON. 

plained  Matt,  "  if  we  can  find  out  where  they  have 
skedaddled  to." 

The  people  asked  us  many  curious  questions, 
but  did  not  generally  use  abusive  language. 

At  New  Auburn  we  had  camped  near  a  pond 
of  water,  but  after  leaving  there  our  men  suffered 
more  than  usual  from  the  thirst  which  always 
occurs  among  men  on  long  marches. 

After  the  14th  the  roads  were  dusty  and  water 
was  very  scarce.  Yet  in  the  circumstances  in 
which  the  army  was  placed,  straggling  was  as 
much  a  crime  as  treason,  for  this  campaign  (as  I 
heard  a  member  of  our  corps  say)  was  as  much 
a  feat  of  legs  as  it  was  of  arms. 

Stringent  orders  had  been  given  to  all  our  men 
not  to  leave  the  ranks  except  when  detailed  to 
obtain  rations  or  for  other  camp  purposes. 

On  the  16th  we  were  hastening  forward  to 
Edwards  Ferry,  supporting  Osterhaus  of  Mc- 
Clernand's  corps,  and  when  halted  at  night  I  was 
again  obliged  to  report  Private  Michael  Ryan  as 
absent  without  leave. 

''  How  long,"  asked  the  officer,  "  has  he  been 
absent?  " 

"  Seven  hours,  since  noon,"  I  replied. 

"  I  distrust  that  man ;  he  will  bear  watching," 
said  the  captain.  "  He  enlisted  too  willingly.  He 
must  be  punished." 

"  He  ought  to  be  shot,  "  said  the  colonel,  who 
at  that  moment  came  up,  and  to  whom  the  captain 
told  the  circumstance. 


'-«Cv 


"  A  volley  of  jeers  and  jokes  saluted  Michael  and  his  picturesque 
steed  and  its  equipments."  —  Page  239. 


THE   GREAT  ADVENTURE   OF  ARMS.      239 

"  He  behaved  well  at  Chickasaw  Bluff  and  at 
Vieksburg,  colonel,"  I  said,  saluting. 

"  He  was  the  '  wild  Irishman '  that  was  first  on 
the  rebel  parapet  at  Arkansas  Post,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "He  don't  flinch  in  a  fight.  I'll  say  that 
for  him." 

The  colonel  paused  a  moment  and  then  said, 
"  If  he  answers  at  roll-call  to-morrow  morning,  all 
right;  he'll  get  a  good  chance  to  stop  a  bullet 
without  our  shooting  him,  before  the  campaign  is 
over.     We  can't  spare  fighting  men  now." 

After  sundown  Michael  made  his  appearance, 
coming  from  the  direction  of  where  the  rebel  lines 
were  supposed  to  be.  He  rode  into  camp  mounted 
on  the  back  of  a  cow,  on  which  he  had  placed  a 
horse-saddle  which  he  had  fitted  to  the  animal 
with  cotton  pickings.  Behind  him  was  a  goodly 
array  of  chickens  and  a  sheep,  while  balanced  on 
either  side  were  two  tin  pails,  one  containing 
water,  the  other  apple-jack. 

A  volley  of  jeers  and  jokes  saluted  Michael  and 
his  picturesque  steed  and  its  equipments.  He 
passed  the  water  to  Matt,  saying,  "  Fill  up  yer 
canteens,  byes  I  "  and  after  we  had  passed  back 
the  empty  pail  he  knelt  down  and  began  to  milk 
the  cow. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Mike  ?  "  we  inquired. 

"  Whist,  now,  yer  make  the  cow  kick  I "  he 
replied  evasively. 

After  the  cow  was  partially  milked  he  surren- 


240  TOM  CLIFTON. 

dered  her  to  some  other  aspirant  for  milk,  and 
advancing  to  the  colonel's  bivouac  fire,  saluted  him 
and  said,  — 

"  It's  some  milk  for  yer  coffee  I've  brought,  and 
some  apple-jack,  sor  ; "  and  then  turning  to  the  colo- 
nel's black  servant :  "  Don't  stand  there  grinning 
while  yer  master's  waiting  fer  milk  in  his  coffee ; " 
and  then  pressing  a  pair  of  fat  chickens  on  the  colo- 
nel's servant,  he  admonished  him  to  see  that  they 
were  cooked  well,  for,  said  he,  "  they  are  the  best  I 
could  find  in  the  country  fer  the  colonel."  Then 
plunging  his  hand  into  his  haversack  he  brought 
out  some  eggs  which  he  had  carefully  packed  in  cot- 
ton, laid  them  down,  and  once  more  saluting,  said, 
"  It's  a  noice  supper  I  wish  ye  may  have,  sor ;  and 
long  life  to  yer  honor ! "  and  marched  away  as 
sedately  as  if  he  had  performed  a  duty  instead  of 
having  been  guilty  of  a  grievous  breach  of  military 
orders. 

It  has  been  said  that  a  man's  heart  is  reached 
through  his  stomach  ;  and  when  we  saw  our  captain 
and  colonel  eating  chicken  at  their  bivouac  fire 
and  drinking  the  apple-jack,  we  knew  that  Michael 
Ryan  had  escaped  punishment  at  least  for  that 
time. 

That  night  our  company  had  broiled  mutton  for 
supper,  cooked  by  holding  the  chops  over  the  fire 
by  our  ramrods. 

Poor  Matt  felt  as  though  his  father  was  a  dis- 
grace to  him,  although  he  did  not  express  this 
feelinff  until  Michael  addressed  him. 


THE   GREAT  ADVENTURE  OF  ARMS.      241 

"  And  why  do  yer  look  so  glum,  Matt  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Because  of  the  trouble  you  are  getting  your- 
self and  me  mto,  father,"  replied  Matt. 

"  And  what  wud  the  company  do  if  nobody 
picked  up  a  bit  of  grub  for  'em  ?  An'  sure  ain't 
I  always  on  the  spot  when  there's  foraging  or 
fighting?  tell  me  that,  sor,  will  yer,  and  not  stand 
there  like  a  tinderfoot !  " 

Sergeant  Matt  turned  away  without  reply  ;  for 
he  had  that  old-fasliioned  feeling  that  he  must 
respect  his  father,  although  there  was  nothing  in 
common  between  them. 

Michael's  temper  and  habitual  insubordination 
grated  harshly  on  Matt's  sensitive  nature.  Accus- 
tomed as  he  was  to  associate  with  more  refined 
people,  yet  he  could  not  fail  as  a  son  in  his  duty. 
That  night  I  awoke  and  found  that  he  had  not 
been  asleep. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Matt?  "  I  asked. 

"  It's  father  that  troubles  me ;  he  doesn't  seem 
at  all  like  the  father  I  remember  as  a  child.  But, 
Tom,  you  must  remonstrate  with  him,  for  his  own 
good,  or  he  will  be  in  trouble." 

The  next  morning,  while  the  men  were  getting 
breakfast,  I  began  the  remonstrance  in  what  I 
thought  a  very  gentle  manner,  telling  Michael 
how  badly  Matt  felt.  That  he  did  not  take  my 
remonstrance  in  good  part  was  evident  by  his  man- 
ner ;  and  although  he  meide  no  reply  he  glowered 


242  TOM  CTAFTON. 

at  me  from  under  his  straight  shaggy  brows ; 
showed  his  under  teeth  shut  over  his  upper  ones 
like  a  bull-dog  ready  to  snap  ;  while  his  eyes  had 
in  them  an  ugly  phosphorescent  glare  still  more 
ominous. 

What  was  there  in  Michael  Ryan  that  made  me 
feel  that  he  was  not  what  he  seemed  ? 

On  the  16th  we  moved  northwest  on  the  route 
to  Bridgeport,  and  found  ourselves  confronted  by 
the  enemy's  right.  We  heard  the  deep  roar  of 
artillery,  and  every  moment  expected  the  order  to 
attack.  It  is  now  known  that  McClernand's  fail- 
ure to  aid  in  the  battle  of  Champion  Hill  prevented 
a  most  overwhelming  defeat,  if  not  the  capture  of 
the  enemy's  forces  on  that  day. 

On  the  16th  we  joined  in  the  pursuit  of  Pem- 
berton's  army,  which  had  fled  beyond  the  Big 
Black  River,  destroying  the  bridges  behind  them. 
The  other  two  divisions  of  the  Fifteenth  Corps  under 
Sherman,  after  destroying  the  public  property  at 
Jackson,  and  the  railroads  near  there,  had  made  a 
forced  march  f.om  that  place  at  noon  on  the  16th 
and  had  halted  at  Bolton,  twenty  miles  west, 
and  at  noon  on  the  17th  reached  Bridgeport, 
where  we  had  already  preceded  them.  We  were 
glad  to  be  united  once  more  with  our  corps,  for 
we  seemed  to  gather  but  few  laurels  except  when 
marching  under  Sherman. 

On  the  17th  of  May,  McClernand's  corps,  the 
Thirteenth,  followed  closely  by  McPherson's  (the 


THE   GREAT  ADVENTURE   OF  ARMS.      243 

Seventeenth),  pursued  the  demoralized  enemy, 
attacked  and  defeated  them  at  the  Big  BLick  River, 
captured  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty- 
one  prisoners  and  eighteen  pieces  of  light  artillery, 
with  a  loss  on  our  side  of  thirty-nine  killed  and 
two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  wounded  and  miss- 
ing. •  When  we  arrived  we  found  a  few  men  in 
position  on  the  west  side  of  the  river.  A  piece  of 
artillery  was  turned  on  them,  and  they  surrendered 
without  firing  a  shot. 

It  was  a  picturesque  sight,  when  after  laying 
a  bridge  on  inflated  rubber  pontoons,  fires  were 
kindled  on  the  banks  of  the  river  and  we  crossed 
by  their  light  at  night. 

But  little  resistance  was  made  at  the  Big  Black, 
for  the  demoralized  enemy  did  not  recover  their 
morale  until  they  were  under  the  protection  of  their 
defences  at  Vicksburg. 

On  the  13th  we  saw  General  Grant  riding 
along  the  Vicksburg  road  inquiring  for  Sherman  ; 
his  first  anxiety,  as  it  afterwards  appeared,  being 
to  secure  for  his  army  a  base  of  supplies  on  the 
Yazoo  above  the  city. 

By  a  happy  coincidence  our  line  of  march  led  us 
to  the  very  point  at  the  Walnut  Hills  which  we 
had  attempted  to  wrest  from  the  enemy  the  previ- 
ous December  in  our  attack  at  Chickasaw  Bluff. 

It  was  now  only  eighteen  days  since  Grant 
crossed  the  river  at  Bruinsburg.  During  this  time 
he  fought  the  battle  of  Port  Gibson,  secured  the 


244  TOM  CLIFTON. 

possession  of  Grand  Gulf  and  the  east  banks  of 
the  Mississippi.  The  battles  of  Raymond  and  Jack- 
son divided  the  enemy's  forces  into  two  parts ; 
Champion  Hill  and  Big  Black  River  compelled 
Pemberton  to  shut  himself  up  in  Vicksburg  where 
"we  were  to  besiege  him. 

For  eighteen  days  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee 
had  marched  and  subsisted  mostly  on  an  enemy's 
country ;  had  defeated  the  enemy  at  Port  Gib- 
son on  the  1st  of  May.  Fourteen  Mile  Creek 
on  the  3d,  Raymond  on  the  12th,  Jackson  on  the 
16th,  Big  Black  River  on  the  17th,  and  on 
the  18th  had  driven  the  enemy  to  his  defences 
at  Vicksburg  after  having  abandoned  Harris 
Bluff  and  Walnut  Hill.  The  enemy  had  been 
beaten  in  detail  on  their  own  ground  with  a 
force  smaller  than  their  own,  with  a  loss  in  killed 
of  six  hundred  and  ninety-five  of  our  men  and  three 
thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty-five  wounded, 
many  only  slightly,  and  only  two  hundred  and 
fifty -nine  captured  and  missing. 

In  rapid  movements  and  vigor  of  pursuit  this 
campaign  equals  in  audacity  and  skill  any  adven- 
ture of  arms  in  modern  times,  throwing  out  even 
the  final  surrender  of  Pemberton. 

The  energy  and  skill  displayed  in  this  campaign 
rank  General  Grant  among  the  great  commanders 
of  armies  of  modern  times. 


ATTACK  AND  REPULSE.  245 


CHAPTER   XX. 

ATTACK   AND    REPULSE. 

We  marched  towards  Vicksburg  with  the  confi- 
dent step  of  victors.  Our  division  had  done  but 
little  fighting  during  the  campaign ;  yet  we  had 
done  the  part  assigned  us,  and  participated  in 
the  general  feeling  of  elation  over  the  successes 
achieved.  We  felt  that  the  enemy  had  been  out- 
marched, out-manoeuvred,  and  beaten  at  every 
point,  and  were  now  driven,  as  Sara  Ryder  said,  to 
their  last  hole. 

As  we  neared  Vicksburg  on  the  Jackson  road, 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  rough  country,  cut  by 
deep  gullies  and  extensive  wood-covered,  vine- 
tangled  ravines.  Beyond,  on  still  more  elevated 
ground,  rose  yellow  heaps  of  soil  or  clay  in  strik- 
ing contrast  with  the  vivid  green  of  the  surround- 
ing foliaofe. 

These  mud-heaps,  as  we  advanced,  soon  showed 
evidences  of  being  outworks  of  the  enemy.  Little 
puffs  of  smoke  curled  up  here  and  there  from 
them ;  then  the  sharp  crack  of  distant  rifles  and 
the  ping  and  zurr  of  singing  bullets  was  heard, 
as  if,  as  we    marched  on  the  eneni}^,   they  were 


246  TOM  CLIFTON. 

saying,  "  Stand  off !  Keep  your  distance  !  We 
mean  to  fight !  " 

We  turned  off  the  Jackson  road  on  to  a  road 
branching  to  the  right,  while  our  skirmish-line 
engaged  the  enemy  in  a  crackling  conversation 
of  musketry. 

As  we  halted  for  a  minute  or  two,  the  captain 
looked  towards  the  high  land  on  our  front  and  at 
what  Matt  designated  "  the  rebel  mud-heaps,"  and 
shaking  his  head,  said  to  me,  "  They  have  got  a 
very  strong  position  there,  Clifton." 

I  replied  confidently,  "  Yes,  so  they  had  at  the 
Big  Black,  but  they  got  up  and  dusted  out  of  it  as 
soon  as  we  showed  ourselves,  Captain." 

Peter,  who  had  been  looking  at  the  "  lay  of  the 
land  "  with  a  hunter's  critical  eye  (for  the  art  of 
war  is  similar  to  that  of  the  hunter),  said,  "Musk- 
rat  run  to  der  holes,  but  fight  when  get  der !  " 

"We'll  drive 'era  right  into  the  river!  "said 
Matt,  joining  in  the  conversation  with  a  confident 
tone,  and  with  his  head  thrown  back  in  a  charac- 
teristic manner. 

Our  captain,  who  was  about  twenty-five  years 
old,  had  a  lion-like  face  and  head.  He  said  in  an 
undertone,  "  Whether  they  make  a  stand  or  not,  I 
think  we  shall  '  try  it  on '  to-morrow." 

"  Have  dig  muskrat  out  here,"  said  Peter  with 
a  gesture  towards  the  enemy. 

The  captain  smiled  at  the  simile,  and  gave  the 
order,    "  Attention  !    forward,  march !  "  and   once 


ATTACK  AND  REPULSE.  247 

more  the  regiment  took  up  the  swinging  step  of 
veterans  over  the  dusty  road. 

The  road  on  to  which  we  had  turned  from  the 
Jackson  road,  and  running  at  right  angles  with  it, 
is  now  known  as  the  Graveyard  road,  and  it  soon 
brought  us  near  the  front  of  the  enemy's  works 
known  as  the  "  Graveyard  bastion  "  (where  we 
halted) ;  a  name  rendered  more  significant  by  our 
after  experiences  in  attacking  it. 

Here  it  may  be  well  to  say  to  my  readers  that 
the  enemy's  position  at  Vicksburg  was  a  vast 
intrenched  camp  (speaking  in  general  terms) 
described  around  the  city  in  a  semicircle  of  seven 
miles  or  more  in  extent.  There  was  also  a  line  of 
forts  on  its  river  front,  to  defend  it  from  our  gun- 
boats. The  position,  a  strong  one  naturally,  con- 
sisted of  a  bluff  or  plateau  two  hundred  feet  above 
the  river  and  about  two  miles  in  width,  cut  in 
many  places  by  deep  valleys  and  abrupt  ravines. 

Our  army  occupied  positions  around  it  in  the 
following  order :  1st,  Sherman's  corps,  extending 
from  the  water  front  on  the  Mississippi  above 
Vicksburg  on  the  right,  and  from  thence  curving 
around  the  rebel  lines  in  front  of  the  Graveyard 
bastion ;  ^  2d,  McPherson's  corps  in  front  and 
facing  west;  3d,  McClernand's  corps  on  the  ex- 
treme left. 

The  enemy's  works  occupied  the  bluffs  of  high 

1  A  bastion  is  a  projectiDg  part  of  a  main  fort  consisting  of  a 
face  and  two  flanks. 


248  TOM  CLIFTON. 

land,  protected  by  gullies  and  ravines  which  they 
had  fortified  with  great  skill,  so  as  to  sweep  with 
musketry  and  artillery  every  approach  to  their 
stronghold  by  road,  ravine,  or  gully. 

The  ravines  and  gullies  in  front  of  the  forts 
were  filled  with  canebrakes.  and  their  sides  were 
covered  with  entangling  vines  and  fallen  tree- 
stumps  or  standing  timber,  thus  supplementing 
the  arts  of  man  by  the  hinderances  of  nature. 

General  Sherman  has  since  the  war  expressed 
the  opinion,  after  seeing  the  Russian  position  at 
Sebastopol  (for  which  the  allied  armies  of  England 
and  France  contended  for  months),  that  Vicksburg 
was  the  stronger  of  the  two. 

The  great  strength  of  organized  attacks  of  armed 
men  is  in  their  ability  to  act  as  a  unit.  This,  the 
hindering  gullies,  thickets,  and  ravines  made  im- 
possible in  our  first  assault  on  Vicksburg. 

That  niofht  we  made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as 
possible,  rolled  ourselves  in  our  blankets,  and  slept 
the  sleep  of  tired  men.  The  next  morning  when  I 
awoke  I  found  Matt  boiling  coffee,  of  which  he  had 
a  little  still  remaining,  and  our  men  scattered  about 
engaged  in  cooking  and  eating. 

After  my  frugal  soldier's  meal,  I  seated  myself 
and  began  reading  a  chapter  from  my  Bible. 
"Read  out  loud,"  said  Matt,  who  had  a  touching 
reverence  for  the  Word.  I  read  that  morning  from 
the  thirty-fifth  Psalai.  At  the  fifth  verse,  "  Let  them 
be  as  chaff  before  the  wind  and  let  the  angel  of 


ATTACK  AND  REPULSE.  249 

tlie  Lord  chase  them,"  and  at  the  twenty-seventh 
verse,  "  Let  them  shout  for  joy  and  be  glad  that 
favor  my  righteous  cause,"  I  heard  a  hearty 
"  Amen  "  uttered  near  me,  which  proved  to  come 
from  the  captain.  As  I  turned  towards  him  I 
found  he  was  seated  near  with  his  back  against  a 
tree ;  and  he  said,  as  if  answering  some  thought  of 
his  own  about  the  chapter,  "  That  expresses  the 
natural  call  to  something  higher  than  his  comrades 
which  a  man  feels  like  making  when  about  to  en- 
counter trouble  or  peril,  and  I  have  that  feeling  of 
calling  for  lielp  very  strong  this  morning.  I  hope 
the  boys  on  the  hills  whom  we've  got  to  fight 
will  be  scattered  'as  chaff  before  the  wind,'  and 
that  the  Lord  will  finally  let  us  shout  for  joy  in 
the  triumph  of  victory ;  yet  this  morning  when  I 
think  of  the  fight,  I  feel  depressed.  I  don't  have 
as  much  hopefulness  and  courage  as  I  do  some- 
times." 

"  You've  got  the  blues.  Captain,"  I  replied. 

After  an  interval  of  silence,  during  which  he 
filled  and  lit  his  pipe,  he  said,  without  reply  to  my 
remark,  but  as  if  continuing,  "  Clifton,  I  have  a 
sweet-faced,  good  little  mother  at  home,  who  taught 
me  to  pray,  and  who  I  feel  prays  for  me  all 
through  these  times.  If  I  should  not  come  out  of 
the  fight  to-day  or  to-morrow,  I  wish  you  would 
send  her  my  watch  and  a  letter  you  will  find  in  my 
pocket.  When  I  left  home  she  said,  '  Try  to  do 
your  whole  duty,  John,  and  God  will  take  care  of 


250  TOM  CLIFTON. 

the  rest.'  "  After  another  short  silence  he  resumed, 
"  I  haven't  thought  of  these  thmgs  much  until 
now;  I  haven't  always  been  just  good;  but  I  have 
never  shown  the  white  feather  before  the  enemy  or 
spared  myself  in  labor  for  the  cause.  I  hope  God 
will  forgive  the  rest  hereafter." 

"Don't  you  think  our  chances  are  good?  "  asked 
Matt. 

The  captain  threw  off  his  serious  mood,  and 
standing  up,  said  gayly  as  he  glanced  down  the  line 
at  our  bronzed  veterans,  "  Faint  heart  never  won 
an  enemy's  earthworks,  boys  :  we'll  try  'em  on  !  " 

Afterwards,  when  the  captain  had  gone  down  the 
line,  Matt  said  to  me,  "  I  guess  we'd  better  say  our 
prayers  pretty  thoroughly  this  morning,  Tom.  A 
man  never  feels  like  our  captain  does  without 
a  cause." 

Although  I  laughed  at  what  I  called  Matt's  Irish 
superstition,  yet  we  both  silently  said  our  prayers 
that  morning,  at  which  Michael  Ryan  looked  on 
with  a  sniff  of  disdain  and  curiosity,  either  at  see- 
ing a  good  Catholic  and  a  Protestant  praying  to- 
gether, or  as  if  his  praying  days  were  over. 

When  some  of  our  rough  fellows  had  made  fun  of 
Matt  at  his  prayers,  he  had  replied,  ''  Tom  and  I 
have  a  different  way  of  doing  the  same  thing  and 
of  asking  for  help  from  the  same  One,  and  He  hears 
us  both." 

Matt  had  a  truly  reverent  and  devotional  spirit, 
and  often  quoted  to  me  a  remark  of  his  priest's : 


ATTACK  AND  REPULSE.  251 

"  Let  us  love  God,  not  as  much  as  He  deserves,  that 
we  cannot  do ;  but  as  much  as  we  can,  that  He 
deserves." 

The  attack  on  the  enemy's  works  which  we  had 
confidently  awaited  did  not  come  as  early  as  we 
expected. 

We  were  formed  on  the  road  which  ran  alono- 
the  top  of  a  ridge  with  a  ravine  on  our  right  and 
left  and  with  the  sides  cut  by  gullies,  and  steep  de- 
clivities towards  the  enemy's  bastion. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  before  we  heard  the  artillery  firing,  which 
was  the  signal  agreed  upon  for  an  attack  all  along 
our  line  from  right  to  left. 

At  the  sound  of  the  artillery  volleys,  we 
advanced  at  quick-step  with  the  Thirteenth  United 
States  regulars  in  advance  ;  brave  fellows,  com- 
manded by  the  heroic  Captain  Washington.  We 
then  spread  out,  advancing  in  line,  scrambling 
over  the  obstructions  mentioned, — the  deep  gul- 
lies and  fallen  trees  and  tangled  vines  which  made 
it  impossible  for  us  to  reach  the  enemy  in  any- 
thing like  an  organized  formation.  As  we  ad- 
vanced into  line,  the  boom  of  cannon,  the  zur.,  zw, 
swich,  bang  of  moving  m\d  exploding  shells ;  the 
singing  pmg  and  bur-r-r  of  passing  bullets,  and  their 
spat^  spat,  as  they  struck  the  timber  or  ground ;  the 
grape-shot  ploughing  the  earth  or  tearing  the  bark 
from  the  logs  and  trees,  —  made  for  us  anything 
but  entertaininof  music, 


252  TOM  CLIFTON. 

We  heard  the  yells  of  the  enemy  and  the  cheers 
of  our  men  mingle  with  the  heavy  boom  of  cannon 
and  the  crackle  of  musketry,  as  our  advance  en- 
countered the  rebels  behind  the  breastwork  on 
our  right. 

I  caught  tlie  flutter  of  a  flag  planted  on  the 
enemy's  works,  and  then  the  quick  crackle  of 
musketry  was  intensified  as  we  neared  the  rebel 
position  and  saw  dimly  through  the  smoke  a  dark 
line  of  heads  and  shoulders  above  the  yellow  para- 
pet. In  another  moment  we  had  reached  the  foot 
of  their  "mud-heap,"  and  I  found  myself  with 
Matt  and  Peter  and  the  others  clambering  up  the 
steep  slope. 

In  another  instant  we  heard  the  command, 
"  Lie  down,  men,"  and  a  volley  passed  over  us. 
Once  on  our  bellies,  we  watched  for  heads  to 
appear  over  the  paraj^et,^  and  fired  when  we  saw 
them. 

"  Now  follow  me,  byes  ;  I'll  show  yez  how  it's 
done,"  yelled  Michael  Ryan,  scrambling  up  the 
parapet. 

"Charge  up  I"  commanded  the  captain.  "Don't 
let  that  wild  Irishman  shame  you  !  " 

The  loose  earth  giving  way  under  our  feet 
fortunately  made  the  task  of  obedience  hard,  or 
we  should  have  all  been  killed  as  we  again  started 
to  scale  the  steep  slope. 

1  Parapet,  a  breast  l)eightof  earth  covering  soldiers  from  a  front 
attack, 


ATTACK  AND  REPULSE.  253 

In  another  instant  we  sa^y  Michael  fire,  then 
club  his  musket,  while  standing  on  top  of  the  rebel 
parapet,  then,  with  a  wild  screech,  he  came  rolling 
down,  heels  over  head,  like  a  sheep  with  its  feet 
tied. 

A  line  of  musket  barrels  protruded  over  the 
bastion,  and  amid  blaze  and  smoke  we  rolled  or 
got  down  the  slopes  of  the  fort  in  any  way  we 
could,  for  we  were  not  in  a  mood  to  be  particular. 

After  we  had  regained  our  confidence  and 
courage  once  more  we  found  one  man  still  lying 
face  downward  with  uplifted  sword  on  the  slope. 
It  was  our  brave  captain. 

Peter  crept  up  the  bank,  seized  the  captain  by 
his  feet  and  pulled  him  down.  The  sword  dropped 
—  our  brave  captain  was  dead.  Four  others  of 
our  men  were  dead  in  the  ditch ;  a  dozen  were 
wounded,  and  the  balance  were  sore  and  savage  at 
heart,  —  for  the  demon  of  battle  possessed  them. 

We  now  watched  the  parapet  for  rebel  heads, 
and  with  deadly  aim  fired  on  every  dark  object 
that  showed  itself  above,  and  fiercely  answered 
yell  with  yell. 

Sometimes,  without  the  men  showing  them- 
selves, muskets  would  be  held  almost  vertically 
over  the  parapet  and  fired.  We  shot  at  every 
hand  as  well  as  at  every  head  that  protruded. 

This  fight  was  kept  up  until  darkness  set  in, 
when  we  got  orders  to  withdraw. 

The   advance   of    our    division    under    Captain 


"254  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Washington  had  meanwhile  had  a  most  tenible 
encounter.  After  ])lanting  its  colors  on  the  exte- 
rior slope  of  the  enemy's  bastion,  our  right  retired 
with  its  brave  commander  mortally  wounded,  and 
seventj'-seven  out  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  men 
killed  or  wounded. 

All  along  the  line  of  several  miles,  from  right 
to  left,  similar  encounters  and  repulses  had  taken 
place.  The  rebel  fire  was  hot,  and  our  loss  corre- 
spondingly severe. 

Steele's  division  on  our  extreme  right,  we 
learned,  had  carried  some  of  the  outworks  and 
defences,  and  had  captured  a  few  prisoners,  but 
yet  the  repulse  was  general  along  the  whole  front 
occupied  by  the  Union  army. 

The  rebels  had  evidently  regained  their  morale, 
spirit,  and  courage. 

We  sorrowfully  brought  in  our  dead  captain 
and  some  of  our  wounded  men,  but  did  not  bring 
in  our  dead. 

Tired,  nerve-strained,  and  not  a  little  despond- 
ent, we  had  retired  to  the  cover  of  the  ravine. 

Here  we  buried  our  young  and  gallant  captain  in 
a  soldier's  grave,  after  cutting  off  one  of  his  tawny 
locks  to  be  sent  to  his  "  sweet-faced  little  mother," 
on  the  banks  of  that  great  river  for  the  possession 
of  whose  waters  her  son  had  died,  fighting  so 
bravely. 

The  same  night,  to  our  great  surprise,  Michael 
Ryan,  whom  we  had  thought  dead,  walked  down 


ATTACK  AND   REPULSE.  255 

the  ravine  from  the  enemy's  intrenchments,  growl- 
ing furiously  and  humorously  that  he  had  been 
left  alone  to  capture  the  fort. 

He  had,  it  seemed,  only  been  stunned  by  a  blow 
on  his  head,  but  had  resolutely  refused  to  consider 
himself  dead  after  being  senseless  as  he  said  for 
some  hours  on  the  parapet. 

Matt  had  received  three  flesh-wounds,  but  not 
dangerous  ones.  Peter  was  slightly  wounded  by 
a  bullet  passing  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger, 
while  the  edge  of  ray  forage-cap  had  a  bullet-hole 
in  it. 

On  the  same  night  of  our  repulse  some  of  our 
men  threw  up  a  breast  height  within  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  feet  of  the  enemy's  line. 

The  20th  and  21st  were  otherwise  occupied  by 
our  forces  in  clearing  the  ground  for  our  camps, 
in  building  new  roads  to  the  rear,  bringing  up 
provisions,  and  in  relieving  the  material  wants  of 
the  individual  machine   known   as  a  soldier. 

New  roads  were  made  on  our  right  to  Chicka- 
saw Bluff ;  new  bridges  built  across  the  bayou  ; 
steamboats  loaded  with  munitions  of  war,  includ- 
ing hard-bread  and  coffee,  which  most  of  the  divis- 
ions of  the  army  had  been  destitute  of  for  several 
weeks,  were  brought  up. 

We  soon  discovered  by  our  pickets  being  ad- 
vanced, and  our  artillery  being  placed  in  command- 
ing positions,  that  another  attack  on  the  enemy's 
works  was  meditated, 


256  TOM  CLIFTON'. 

While  we  felt  that  there  was  a  moral  as  well  as 
a  military  reason  for  carrying  the  enemy's  works 
as  soon  as  possible,  yet  we  did  not  feel  so  confident 
of  the  results  as  has  sometimes  been  assumed. 
We  had,  however,  an  army  in  our  rear  under 
Johnston  as  well  as  the  one  we  were  attempting 
to  "  gobble  "  as  we  called  it,  and  therefore  could 
not  afford  to  linger  without,  as  Sam  Ryder  said, 
"  trying  them  on." 

In  the  general  assault  which  took  place  on  the 
22d,  the  watches  of  the  generals  were  set  by  the 
commander's  ^and  the  time  of  the  attack  agreed 
upon  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  As  early  as 
three  o'clock,  our  artillery  began  to  "  advertise," 
as  Sam  said,  our  assault.  Then  began  the  usual 
exchange  of  musketry  on  the  skirmish-line  to 
keep  down  the  fire  of  the  rebels  behind  the  para- 
pet, but  who,  loading  their  rifles  under  cover, 
showed  themselves  only  when  in  the  act  of  firing. 

Over  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  our  men  rushed 
forward  with  boards  and  small  timber  to  bridge 
the  enemy's  ditches.  The  column  of  attack  fol- 
lowed, and  as  in  the  previous  attack  of  the  19th 
reached  the  exterior  slopes  of  the  forts,  and  were 
driven  into  the  ditches  by  the  enemy  that  rose  in 
double  ranks  and  poured  a  furious  musket  fire 
upon  us  that  swept  every  point  with  its  leaden 
showers  of  death. 

We  were  deployed  on  the  off  side  of  a  spur  lead- 
ing from  the   ridge  on  which  the  Graveyard  road 


ATTACK  AND  REPULSE.  257 

ran  ;  keeping  up  a  steady  fire  upon  every  head,  or 
even  hand,  that  showed  above  tlie  intrenclied  posi- 
tion of  the  enemy.  We  saw  two  men  stand  and 
fire  from  the  parapet,  but  they  did  not  stand  there 
long,  for  our  trained  Western  sliarp-shooters  were 
not  accustomed  to  miss  tlieir  aim. 

We  saw  tlie  attack,  and  also  saw  that  it  would 
fail.  When  the  front  ranks  had  reached  the 
ditches  and  recoiled,  the  masses  in  front  pushed 
them  forward  until  the  men  reached  the  slopes  of 
the  intrenchments,  and  some  of  their  flags  were 
once  more  planted  there  by  our  brave  fellows. 

Exposed,  however,  to  a  terrible  fire  of  a  double 
line  of  men  behind  their  strong  defences,  they  were 
soon  broken  into  groups,  seeking  protection  behind 
logs,  in  the  ditches,  and  wherever  shelter  was 
afforded,  from  the  destructive  short-range  fire. 

During  the  night  that  followed,  some  of  our 
wounded  Avere  brought  to  the  protection  of  the 
ravines  ;  but  the  ground  was  plentifully  sprinkled 
with  dead,  for  we  had  once  more  met  with  a  bloody 
repulse  along  th^  entire  line,  in  spite  of  the  heroic 
efforts  of  our  soldiers. 

We  must  henceforth  exercise  patience  as  well 
as  courage  if  we  would  grasp  the  coveted  prize. 

The  very  next  day  the  army  begun  to  dig  rifle- 
pits,  and  continued  digging  until  the  "  Gibraltar  of 
the  South  "  fell  before  our  victorious  spades  and 
arms. 

As  soon  as  the  news  of  the  investment  of  Pem- 


258  TOM  CLIFTON. 

berton's  army  at  Vicksburg  reached  the  North,  a 
large  number  of  visitors  came  to  see  us.  Some 
came  as  to  a  circus,  some  to  see  sons  or  fathers  and 
brothers,  others  to  reclaim  the  bodies  of  their  dead. 
Members  of  the  Christian  and  Sanitary  Commis- 
sions came  to  minister  to  our  sick  and  wounded. 
My  father  wrote  to  me  that  he  expected  to  come, 
but  that  the  want  of  help  on  the  farm  on  account 
of  so  many  young  men  going  to  war  had  kept  him 
at  home  at  farm  work. 

I  thought  that  women  and  citizens  should  keep 
away  from  scenes  of  war.  We  hear  much  about 
women  in  hospitals.  My  experience  has  been  that 
they  were  great  nuisances. 


THE   TRUCE  AND  ARREST.  259 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE   TRUCE   AND   ARREST. 

Although  we  had  not  lost  confidence  in  our- 
selves or  our  ultimate  success,  yet  after  the  two 
bloody  repulses  chronicled  in  the  foregoing  chap- 
ter, we  were  for  a  short  time  a  little  irritated  and 
depressed.  It  was  galling  to  know  that  although 
we  had  lost  heavily  we  had  inflicted  but  slight 
losses  on  a  foe  whose  powers  of  defence  we  had 
underrated  and  despised. 

I  have  before  noticed  that  after  all  great  con- 
flicts where  the  nerves  of  men  are  strained  to 
an  unnatural  tension,  there  comes  a  reaction  of 
gloom  and  discouragement.  But  give  men  a  good 
camping-place,  and  rest  and  sleep,  and  plenty  to 
.eat,  and  they  soon  forget  previous  hardships. 

The  night  after  the  attack  a  group  of  comrades 
were  gathered  around  a  little  camp-fire  made  in 
one  of  the  wide  ravines,  back  from  the  right  of 
the  Graveyard  road,  and  out  of  range  of  the  ene- 
my's fire.  Some  had  been  gathering  for  their  beds 
the  Spanish  moss  which  hung  from  the  trees  like 
funeral  decorations. 


260  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Peter  was  quietly  smoking.  Matt  was  making 
coffee.  Sam  Ryder,  snuffling  with  a  bad  cold,  was 
cooking  something  very  savory  in  half  a  canteen 
held  over  the  fire. 

The  crackling  fire  of  a  soldier's  bivouac  conveys 
a  sense  of  comfort,  and  is  a  centre  of  camp  cheer- 
fulness as  the  fireside  of  home  is  of  content  and 
cheeriness.  Occasionally  the  rapid  crack  of  mus- 
ketry along  our  front  showed  that  the  deadly 
conversation  between  our  picket-lines  had  not 
entirely  ceased,  and  yet  no  comments  were  made 
by  our  group. 

As  I  glanced  over  the  faces  of  our  boys  I  men- 
tally compared  them  with  the  boys  who  came  to 
the  front  with  me  in  '61  as  guileless  of  any  proper 
knowledge  of  a  soldier's  hard  fare  as  children. 
The  lines  on  their  faces  were  deepened ;  the  forced 
marches,  encounters,  and  many  dangers,  the  coarse 
and  often  scanty  food,  had  transformed  these  boys, 
once  so  careless  and  happy,  into  stern,  resolute, 
bronzed  veterans,  men  who  had  the  iron  of  resolu- 
tion in  their  souls,  with  some  of  the  generous  glow 
of  manly  youth. 

Our  boys  began  to  talk  about  the  attack  and  the 
causes  of  its  failure  with  that  free  spirit  of  criti- 
cism of  the  higher  officers  that  was  perhaps  too 
common  in  our  army. 

One  fellow  thought  we  might  have  been  sue- 
cessful  if  we  had  maintained  only  a  thin  skirmish- 
line,  and  then  massed  the  balance  of  our  men  for 


THE   TRUCE  AND  ARREST.  261 

an  attack  at  some  key-point  on  the  lines  of  the 
enemy. 

"  We  advertised  that  last  fight  too  much,"  said 
Sam  Ryder. 

"What  kind  o' stuff  are  you  givin' us  now? 
What  do  yer  mean  ?  "  asked  Jim  Fowler. 

"  Why,"  said  Sam,  "  we  set  our  artillery  to  roar- 
ing at  them  fellers  before  daylight,  saying  just  as 
plain  as  if  we'd  talked  it,  '•  We're  a-coming  fer 
yer  just  as  soon  as  we  get  our  breakfast ! '  " 

We  all  laughed  at  Sam's  presentation  of  the 
subject,  but  were  only  agreed  on  one  of  his  proj^o- 
sitions,  and  that  was,  that  after  eating  our  breakfast 
that  morning  it  would  have  been  better  if  we  had 
chewed  on  it  until  the  present  moment, — and 
then  not  attacked. 

Peter  expressed  in  his  usual  monosyllabic  way 
his  opinion  that  we  should  have  crept  as  near  to 
the  enemy  as  possible  in  the  silence  of  night  and 
then  have  made  a  great  rush  for  their  works  before 
they  could  fairly  get  their  ej^es  open. 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt,  "  but  there  are  more  skulkers 
in  the  dark  than  in  the  daylight  always,  otherwise 
I  should  say  yes  to  that." 

"  But  say,  fellers,"  said  Jim  Fowler,  "  them  fel- 
lers jest  give  us  an  almighty  good  peppering  ; 
they  fit  in  good  style,  them  chaps  did."  We  reluc- 
tantly agreed  with  him. 

In  short,  there  was  the  usual  display  of  military 
knowledge,  and   with   it  a  mixture  of   growling 


262  TOM  CLIFTON. 

about  the  generals  and  over  the  results,  but  a 
generous  silence  was  observed  concerning  those 
officers  who  had  shared  with  us  the  dangers  of  the 
assault. 

When  the  boys  spoke  of  our  captain  it  was  in 
suppressed  tones  and  with  an  assent  to  a  remark, 
that  we  shouldn't  get  another  such  bully  fellow 
to  command  the  company. 

During  the  silence  that  fell  on  the  group  after 
the  mention  of  the  captain's  name,  we  heard  a 
peculiar  shrill  cry  coming  from  the  direction  of 
the  enemy's  works.    "  What's  that  ?  "  said  Matt. 

We  listened  and  again  heard  it.  "What  is  it?  " 
I  exclaimed  in  alarm. 

"  Oh,  that's  some  kind  of  a  screech-owl,"  said 
Sam,  who  had  a  confident  way  of  explaining  every- 
thing. "  There's  all  kinds  of  plaguy  things  in 
this  country." 

Peter  stood  up  in  his  peculiar  attitude  of  listen- 
ing ;  and  again  a  shriek  long  and  shrill  was  heard. 

"  What  is  it,  Peter  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Hurt  horse  or  mule,"  said  Peter,  resuming  his 
seat. 

So  it  turned  out;  for  in  the  morning  we  learned 
that  the  enemy,  to  save  feeding  their  horses  and 
mules,  had  turned  them  loose  between  the  two  lines, 
and  had  shot  many  of  them  when  they  approached 
our  lines,  in  order  that  their  dead  carcasses  might 
endanger  the  health  of  our  soldiers,  or  that  we 
might  not  derive  any  benefit  by  their  capture. 


THE   TRUCE  AND  ARREST.  263 

This  practice  of  shooting  horses  by  both  the 
contestants  continued  until  the  poor  brutes  wan- 
dering between  the  hostile  lines  were  finally  ex- 
terminated. 

On  the  24th  we  began  breaking  ground  for 
intrenchments  and  the  construction  of  batteries 
on  the  ridge  about  four  hundred  yards  from  the 
enemy's  works. 

The  construction  of  field-works  called  to  the 
duty  of  engineers  every  man  who  could  pretend 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  art ;  every  graduate  of  the 
national  military  school  was  required  to  assume 
these  duties. 

General  James  B.  McPherson  had  graduated  at 
West  Point,  in  the  engineers,  the  highest  gradua- 
tion, and,  previous  to  the  war,  was  in  charge  of  the 
coast  defences  of  New  England.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  efficient  engineers  in  the  service.  Once  or 
twice  I  saw  him  riding  along  the  intrenched  line 
during  the  siege,  as  grand  an  equestrian  figure  as 
I  ever  saw. 

General  Archer,  our  old  colonel  and  friend,  was 
also  assigned  to  this  duty  in  common  with  other 
West  Pointers,  and  it  was  under  him  that  the  men 
of  our  company  on  this  occasion  learned  to  con- 
struct siege  material. 

Our  first  lesson  was  in  making  gabions  ;  and 
perhaps  it  may  interest  my  readers  to  know  how 
they  were  made. 

A  circle  was  first  struck  on  the  ground  about 


264  TOM  CLIFTON. 

two  and  one-half  feet  in  diameter;  and  around 
this  circle  stakes  two  and  one-half  feet  high  were 
driven  into  the  ground,  about  four  inches  apart. 
Willows,  grape-vines,  or  canes  (the  last  beaten 
to  make  them  flexible)  were  used.  These  were 
woven  in  and  out  between  the  stakes  in  the  same 
manner  that  baskets  are  made.  When  finished, 
those  gabions  resembled  huge  rough  baskets  with- 
out bottom  or  top. 

A  sap-roller  is  made  in  the  same  manner,  but 
they  are  from  five  to  six  or  seven  feet  long,  and 
much  larger  around  in  proportion,  as  they  are  used 
to  shield  men  when  at  work  in  rifle  trenches. 
They  are  placed  in  front  of  the  trenches  so  as 
always  to  make  a  barrier  between  the  enemy  and 
the  men  at  work. 

Peter  had  been  accustomed  to  basket-making, 
'and  his  gabions  were  so  fine,  and  his  instructions 
to  us  so  lucid,  that  both  Matt  and  I  became  very 
expert  in  making  this  part  of  siege  material. 
These  gabions  are  of  great  value  in  revetting  or 
lining  embrasures  or  strong  earth-works. 

They  are  usually  carried  in  the  night  as  near 
the  enemy's  works  as  possible,  set  down  and 
speedily  filled  with  earth.  When  this  is  done  a 
single  man  can  shield  himself  behind  it,  or  advance 
in  line  behind  it  towards  the  enemy,  or  other  ga- 
bions can  be  placed  beside  it  and  filled,  and  these 
form  a  starting-point  for  a  sap  or  trench. 

During  this  siege  I  often  saw  two  barrels  put 


THE   TRUCE  AND  ARREST.  265 

head  to  head  and  wound  with  twigs  and  canes  for 
sap-rollers.  Sometimes  the  rebels  would  throw  fire- 
balls into  these  sap-rollers,  and  more  than  once 
they  were  successful  in  destroying  them. 

Since  the  attack  on  the  22d  our  dead  and  some 
of  our  wounded  lay  where  they  had  fallen,  between 
the  two  lines,  so  close  up  to  the  enemy's  works 
that  it  had  been  impossible  for  their  comrades  to 
remove  them  without  danger  of  being  killed. 

On  the  25th  a  truce  was  granted  us  to  bury 
the  Union  dead  and  to  succor  such  of  our  wounded 
as  had  not  been  removed.  We  found  several  of 
our  brave  fellows  who  had  been  exposed  to  the 
heat  of  the  sun,  and  to  the  tortures  of  wounds, 
hunger,  and  thirst  for  two  days.  Their  sufferings 
were  terrible ;  and  one  said  to  us  when  rescued, 
"  Thank  God,  young  fellows,  I  am  not  to  die  like 
a  dog  after  serving  my  country  like  a  man." 
Another  said,  "  It  was  terrible  out  there  in  the  sun 
without  water  all  day  yesterday." 

Such  are  the  hardships  often  exacted  in  war 
from  patriots  whose  sacrifices  are  too  soon  forgotten 
or  ignored  by  those  who  do  not  understand  them. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
truce  took  place,  and  after  the  wounded  were  car- 
ried away  the  dead  were  buried  near  where  they 
had  been  lying  because  their  condition  would  not 
admit  of  their  removal. 

Groups  of  Confederate  and  Union  soldiers  then 
lingered  to  chaff  and  swap  tobacco  for  coffee  in  as 


266  TOM  CLIFTON. 

absolute  good-nature  as  if  they  were  neighbors  and 
friends  instead  of  foes. 

"Why  don't  you  give  it  up,"  said  Sam  Ryder, 
"  and  come  over  and  get  some  hard-bread  and 
coffee,  and  have  some  decent  grub?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  give  it  up,  Yank,  and  go  home?  " 
was  the  retort. 

"  Got  to  dig  you  out  o'  this  phice  first,  and  we're 
goin'  to  do  it  if  it  takes  a  year." 

"  'T  will  take  yer  longer  than  that ;  we  uns  hain't 
showed  our  hands  yit,"  said  the  Confederate 
threateningly. 

"  No,"  said  Sam  laughingly,  "  nor  your  faces 
neither.  We  ain't  in  no  hurry  ;  we  are  holdin'  yer 
as  prisoners  of  war  and  lettin'  yer  feed  yerselves." 

"  Well,  by  me  faith,  if  it's  prisoners  of  war  they 
are,  it's  about  toime,  sor,  that  we  took  away  their 
shmall  arums,"  said  Michael  Ryan,  who  with  a 
group  of  Union  and  Confederate  soldiers  had  been 
listening  to  this  chaff. 

"  By  heavens,  I  thought  you  were  dead  !  "  ex- 
claimed a  rebel  soldier,  turning  and  facing  Michael 
in  great  excitement. 

"  Why,  it's  Pat  Pike,  the  scout !  "  exclaimed 
another. 

The  rebel  soldier  who  first  had  spoken,  as  if  too 
much  had  already  been  said,  put  his  hand  warn- 
ingly  on  the  other's  shoulder. 

All  this  time  Michael  stood  in  seeming  apathy. 
The  only  sign  of  excitement  that  he  showed  was 


THE   TRUCE  AND  ARREST.  2(37 

that  the  hand  hanging  at  his  side  was  clinched  like 
a  vise,  and  the  short  black  pipe  was  griped  so 
firmly  between  his  teeth  that  it  broke  with  a  snap. 

"Arrest  that  man,  and  hurry  him  to  the  rear  !  " 
ordered  our  colonel  in  a  low  tone. 

Michael  looked  up  from  under  his  straight  shaggy 
brows  while  his  lips  disclosed  the  overlapping 
under  teeth.  His  eyes  had  in  them  that  danger- 
ous phosphorescent  light,  so  like  a  beast  at  bay ; 
yet  he  had  such  outward  self-control  that  he  was 
perfectly  quiet  and  his  face  was  rigid. 

As  the  men  at  the  colonel's  command  advanced 
to  seize  him,  I  saw  the  muscles  of  his  arms  swell 
under  his  blouse  ;  the  huge  lump  in  his  throat  rise 
like  a  danger  signal,  the  cords  of  his  neck  swell, 
the  head  become  erect ;  then  with  the  angry  roar  of 
a  lion  he  sprang  forward,  with  his  brawny  arms  ex- 
tended, as  if  about  to  hurl  his  would-be  captors 
right  and  left. 

I  heard  the  click  of  revolvers  around  me,  and  at 
this  sound  Michael  subdued  his  anger  as  with  one 
act  of  will,  and  in  an  instant  became  calm  again. 

With  a  careless  smile  on  his  face  he  said,  "  Yer 
intentions  are  good,  colonel ;  ye  wud  'a'  shot  me 
down  like  a  dog,  but  Tm  not  to  be  shot  this  after- 
noon, thank  ye !  " 

There  was  a  certain  dignity,  an  attitude  of  com- 
mand in  his  manner,  which  was  new  to  us,  and 
which  seemed  to  affect  even  the  colonel,  for  he  said 
to  the  men,  "  If  he  accompanies  you  without  resist- 


268  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ance,  don't  touch  him  ;  if  he  attempts  to  escape, 
shoot  him  down ! " 

When  Michael  passed  Matt,  with  an  indescribable 
tone  of  authority  he  ordered  the  guard  to  "  Halt, 
while  I  speak  to  this  boy."  Then,  addressing  Matt, 
with  softening  in  his  voice  he  said,  "  Matt,  be- 
lieve what  you  will  about  me,  but  I  never  intended 
ye  harrum.  I  wud  give  my  life  to  save  yours, 
for  your  father  was  "  —  He  hesitated,  and  then  was 
hurried  away  by  the  guard  to  be  court-martialled 
and  shot. 

Matt  turned  to  me  with  a  white  face,  and  with  a 
quiver  in  his  voice- said,  "  He's  a  brave  man.  I 
don't  understand  him.  I  have  always  felt  that  he 
was  not  what  he  pretended  to  be,  but  he's  not  my 
father,  thank  God  !  I  will  see  him  to-morrow  and 
find  out  what  he  knows  about  my  father ;  how  he 
came  by  his  letters  and  secrets." 

Matt  seemed  fated  not  to  find  out  about  his 
father  from  this  man ;  for  that  very  night  marching 
orders  came  to  our  division,  and  by  sunrise,  in  light 
marching  order,  we  began  our  march  with  three 
days'  rations,  towards  the  Big  Black  River. 

During  the  week  that  followed,  our  time  was 
employed  in  an  expedition  between  that  river  and 
the  Yazoo,  burning  bridges,  driving  away  cattle, 
and  destroying  everything  on  which  Johnston's 
army  might  subsist. 

General  Grant,  finding  that  Johnston's  army  had 
been  re-enforced  and  was  menacing  his  rear,  had 


THE   TRUCE  AND  ARREST.  269 

sent  out  a  division  under  General  Frank  P.  Blair, 
Jr.,  to  intercept  and  observe  the  enemy,  supposed 
to  be  collecting  between  the  Big  Black  River  and 
the  Yazoo  River,  and  also  to  destroy  railroad 
bridges  and  provisions  on  which  an  army  might  be 
fed. 

We  Avere  absent  about  a  week  on  this  expedition, 
during  which  we  reconnoitred  the  whole  region 
thoroughly  along  the  Yazoo  for  forty-five  miles. 

Matt's  first  anxiety  on  returning  to  our  old  camp 
was  to  learn  the  fate  of  Michael  Ryan,  or  Pat  Pike 
as  we  must  now  call  him. 

"They've  shot  him  by  this  time,"  said  one  of 
our  men. 

"  Old  Colonel  Tuttle,  who's  conducting  these 
court-martials,"  said  another,  "  don't  fool  a  great 
deal  with  rebel  spies.  A  volley  and  a  pine  coffin 
is  the  most  he  ever  does  for  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jim  Fowler,  "  and  he  considers  a 
man  guilty  until  he  proves  his  innocence." 

Matt's  inquiries  were  met  with  a  good  deal  of 
reticence,  but  the  substance  of  the  replies  was,  that 
in  the  midst  of  the  court-martialli ng  of  Pike,  the 
proceedings  had  been  stopped  by  an  order  from 
headquarters,  and  the  last  seen  of  him  was  when  he 
had  been  conducted  under  guard  to  General  Grant's 
quarters. 

"  Likely  the  evidence  was  complete,  and  General 
Grant  wanted  to  question  him  before  he  was  shot," 
said  Jim  Fowler.    "  Grant  don't  say  much,  but  it's 


270  TOM  CLIFTON. 

like  trying  to  pull  a  piece  of  solid  iron  apart  to 
move  him.     I  guess  Michael's  done  for." 

This  seemed  to  be  the  general  opinion,  but  to 
Matt  and  myself  the  mystery  connected  with  Pike 
seemed  deeper  than  ever. 

A  soldier  has  but  little  time,  especially  during  a 
siege,  to  make  inquiries  or  discuss  individual  mat- 
ters ;  and  our  attention  was  soon  diverted  to  the 
siege,  or  as  Peter  styled  it,  "  digging  out  rebel 
musquash  nests." 

We  found  our  comrades  all  along  the  line  at 
work  in  the  trenches  as  they  were  detailed,  and 
also  pioneer  companies  and  hired  negro  laborers 
who  had  done  a  great  deal  of  the  hard  work. 

Our  company  camping-places  were  made  as  com- 
fortable as  possible  by  bringing  up  the  camp 
equipage  belonging  to  the  different  regiments. 
Although  we  might  still  be  said  to  face  an  enemy 
of  over  thirty  thousand  on  our  front,  as  well  as 
having  an  ai-my  threatening  our  rear,  yet  our  army 
was  now  being  largely  re-enforced,  and  was  strong 
enough  to  fight  from  either  direction.  We  could 
also  spare  men  enough  to  interpose  a  strong  force 
between  Vicksburg  and  Haynes  Bluff,  the  direc- 
tion in  which  we  were  most  likely  to  be  threatened 
by  Johnston's  army  in  his  attempt  to  relieve  the 
Vicksburg  garrison. 


SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER.  271 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

SIEGE   AND   SURRENDER. 

The  siege  had  been  pushed  with  great  vigor. 
A  battery  of  six  pieces  of  field  artillery  was  dis- 
posed on  our  front  near  the  Graveyard  road,  with 
three  other  batteries  along  our  division  front  on 
the  ridge  about  four  hundred  feet  from  the  rebel 
bastion. 

The  nearness  of  our  artillery  will  be  realized 
when  we  consider  that  three  hundred  yards  was  at 
that  time  the  usual  distance  in  ordinary  target 
practice. 

Our  approaches  towards  the  enemy  started  from 
the  left  of  the  earthwork,  where  the  first  battery 
mentioned  was  stationed. 

If  my  readers  will  imagine  a  wide  shallow  ditch, 
three  feet  in  depth,  with  the  excavated  earth 
thrown  all  on  one  side,  they  will  understand  how 
our  rifle  trenches  looked  while  in  the  process  of 
construction.  Sometimes  while  the  earth  was 
being  thrown  up,  a  breast  height  of  logs  or  gabions 
was  built  up  in  front,  and  the  earth  was  thrown 
over  against  it,  with  a  step  of  earth  left  for  the 
sharp-shooter  or  infantry  to  stand  on. 


272  TOM  CLIFTON. 

In  digging,  the  soil  was  thrown  toward  the 
enemy,  and  these  trenches  ran  in  zigzag  fashion 
instead  of  in  direct  lines.  This  is  the  usual 
method  of  approaching  an  enemy  in  a  siege,  as 
the  enemy  might,  if  they  were  in  a  straight  line, 
enfilade  the  whole  length  of  the  trench.  All 
along  our  line  for  miles  were  to  be  seen  these  zig- 
zags, which  Sam  Ryder  said  put  him  in  mind  of  a 
ship  beating  to  windward ;  receding  from  one 
point  in  order  to  advance  at  another. 

These  approaches  on  our  front  finally  reached 
a  lone  oak-tree  standing  a  little  over  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  enemy's  earthwork. 

By  this  tree  a  strong  fort  was  erected  for  our 
sharp-shooters;  and,  among  other  marksmen  of 
our  company,  Peter,  Matt,  and  I  were  sometimes 
detailed  for  duty. 

Not  a  rebel  head  or  arm  could  be  shown  during 
the  day  without  risk  of  being  struck  by  a  bullet. 
The  object  of  this  sharp-shooting  stand  was  to  pro- 
tect our  labor  parties  against  the  rebel  marksmen. 
These  parties,  however,  generally  worked  at  night. 

While  we  were  at  the  "  place  of  arms  "  as  mili- 
tary men  would  term  it,  or  "  duck-pit "  as  Peter 
called  it,  we  could  see  the  operations  of  our  men  in 
the  trenches ;  and  it  was  amusing  to  watch  them 
digging  deeper  and  deeper  while  the  firing  was 
going  on,  until  we  could  scarcely  see  their  heads. 

Fi'om  the  right  of  this  strong  rifle-pit  a  "  half 
parallel,"  or  rifle-trench,  covered  only  toward  the 


SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER.  273 

enem}^,  was  constructed  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  in 
front.  This  was  cut  along  the  hillside ;  and  on 
reaching  the  summit  another  strong  earthwork 
was  begun  within  eighty  yards  of  the  enemy's 
works. 

In  the  night  we  could  see  the  huge  sap-rollers 
slowly  moving  ahead  of  the  trenches  as  fast  as 
they  were  dug,  nearer  and  nearer  the  enemy,  with 
the  steadiness  of  fate. 

Only  once  or  twice,  to  my  knowledge,  was 
there  any  attempt  made  to  destroy  the  sap-rollers ; 
but  on  several  occasions  the  rebels  shot  into  them, 
and  then  a  series  of  volleys  would  come  from  our 
sharp-shooters  in  reply. 

Generally  the  attitude  of  the  rebel  picket  during 
the  night  was  one  of  curiosity  rather  than  antag- 
onism, and  sometimes  an  agreement  would  exist  be- 
tween Yanks  and  rebs  not  to  fire  upon  each  other. 

Several  times  our  pickets  got  so  near  to  each 
other  as  to  get  mixed  ;  and  then  an  agreement  was 
made  as  to  where  the  lines  should  be,  which  agree- 
ments were  usually  much  to  our  advantage. 

Sometimes  after  entering  into  a  tacit  truce, 
privates  and  non-commissioned  officers  would  meet 
between  the  lines  to  swap  tobacco  and  coffee. 
On  these  occasions  the  utmost  friendliness  would 
be  shown,  and  at  times  important  information 
would  incidentally  be  given  us  as  to  what  was 
going  on  in  the  city. 

The  connecting  parapets  and  every  other  avail- 


274  TOM  CLIFTON. 

able  position  within  rifle-shot  were,  however,  con- 
stantly occupied  by  a  line  of  sharp-shooters  during 
the  day  and  by  trench  guards  and  pickets  during 
the  night. 

Wherever  our  zigzags  gave  the  opportunity, 
loopholes  were  made  by  putting  logs  on  top  of 
the  earthwork,  and  then  digging  underneath  them 
holes  large  enough  to  run  a  musket  through. 
Stumps  and  fascines  were  also  sometimes  placed 
on  the  top  of  the  parapet  for  protection. 

Had  the  Confederates  had  ammunition  for  a 
constant  artillery  fire  on  our  earthworks,  these 
head-logs  would  have  been  knocked  into  flinders. 

The  position  of  our  sharp-shooters  was  generally 
as  elevated  as  that  of  the  rebels,  and  the  rifle-pits 
along  the  ravine  and  up  its  sides  were  so  much 
lower  than  the  Confederate  works,  that  they  found 
it  too  expensive  to  human  life  and  limb  to  expose 
themselves  by  firing  upon  us  here.  Our  artillery 
was  also  protected  against  bullets  by  closing  the  em- 
brasures with  thick  planks  and  other  contrivances 
at  the  times  when  the  guns  were  not  being  fired. 

In  every  direction  along  the  fifteen-mile  line 
of  investment,  the  same  kinds  of  earthworks,  rifle- 
pits,  covered  ways,  and  approaches  were  to  be 
seen. 

Along  the  ravine,  between  us  and  the  Jackson 
road,  as  well  as  on  our  right,  covered  ways,  by 
which  our  men  could  be  quickly  concentrated 
along  the  line,  were  constructed. 


SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER.  275 

At  one  time,  near  us,  the  enemy  fired  into  one 
of  our  sap-rollers,  rolling  it  over  and  over  upon 
the  men  who  were  digging  in  the  trenches.  Our 
artillery  and  sharp-shooters  replied  with  such  fury 
that  they  did  not  try  it  again. 

Heavy  guns,  carrying  one  hundred  and  two 
hundred  pound  shot  were  generally  used  at  that 
period  during  the  siege  of  a  fortified  place ;  but  at 
Vicksburg  there  were  no  siege-guns  to  be  had, 
but  simply  such  artillery  as  is  used  in  the  field. 
On  our  right,  however,  there  were  some  heavy 
ship-guns  loaned  by  Admiral  Porter  and  manned 
by  his  sailors. 

At  night  we  could  hear  the  jarring  boom  of 
mortars  from  our  naval  fleet,  or  from  the  mortar- 
raft  anchored  near  the  shore  of  the  thumb-shaped 
peninsula  opposite  Vicksburg.  At  night  we  could 
see  bombs  like  rockets  describing  curved  lines 
against  the  sky. 

The  shell  that  exploded  during  the  day  over 
the  beleaguered  city  made  little  round  clouds  of 
smoke,  at  first  seemingly  compact  and  then  spread- 
ing and  drifting  away. 

During  the  siege  the  Confederates  tried  at  dif- 
ferent times  to  smuggle  percussion-caps  (of  which 
they  were  short)  through  our  lines.  On  the  25th 
of  May  several  of  them  dressed  in  Federal  uniform 
were  captured  while  trying  to  get  into  Vicksburg 
with  the  coveted  article. 

We  had  been  warned  that  such  attempts  might 


276  TOM  CLIFTON. 

be  made,  but  thought  but  little  of  it,  until  one 
night  the  following  incident  occurred  when  we 
were  on  trench  guard  with  a  working-party. 

The  rebels  had  just  been  making  themselves 
unpleasantly  familiar  by  throwing  hand  grenades, 
and  in  one  instance  a  shell  with  lighted  fuse,  when 
one  of  the  working-party  jumped  upon  the  parapet 
as  if  about  to  rush  in  anger  upon  the  enemy.  This 
he  no  doubt  would  have  done,  had  not  Peter 
caught  him  by  the  feet  and  pulled  him  struggling 
into  the  trench  again.  The  man  seized  a  musket 
standing  against  the  parapet,  but  before  he  could 
use  it  Peter  had  knocked  him  down,  and  in  reply 
to  our  exclamations  said,  "  Spy  Wild  Dog !  " 

On  rising  to  his  feet  the  prisoner  tried  to  throw 
his  canteen  towards  the  enemy's  mud  heap,  but 
was  frustrated  in  the  attempt,  and  his  hands  tied. 

The  suspected  spy  was  taken  into  camp  and  put 
under  guard  while  the  colonel  was  sent  for.  He 
was  carefully  searched,  but  nothing  was  found 
until  Peter  showed  that  the  man's  canteen  was 
full  of  percussion-caps.  When  these  were  emptied 
into  a  rubber  blanket  two  musket  cartridges  of 
ordinary  make  were  found  among  them,  on  the 
paper  of  one  of  which  was  found  a  cipher  despatch 
from  General  Johnston,  of  which  the  following  is 
a  copy :  — 

"  Lieutenant-General  Pemberton :  my  X,  A,  F,  V,  last  U,  S, 
L,  X,  L,  A,  M,  E,  I  send  U,  S,  L,  X,  by  B,  K,  C,  Y,  A,  J  and 
200  V,  E,  G,  T.  How  and  where  is  the  J,  S,  Q,  M,  L,  G,  S,  F, 
N,  E,  H,  B,  F,  Y,  is  your  K,  B,  E,  E,  L.        J.  E.  Johnston." 


SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER.  277 

It  is  probable  that  if  this  spy  had  tried  at  almost 
any  other  part  of  our  line,  he  would  have  been 
successful  in  his  ruse ;  but  Peter's  knowledge  of 
the  man,  together  with  his  keen  Indian  instinct, 
had  alone  prevented  it. 

A  drumhead  court-martial  was  convened  by 
General  Blair,  and  we  were  summoned  to  give  our 
evidence.  During  the  examination  the  spy  sat 
stolidly  observant,  occasionally  giving  keen  fox- 
like glances  toward  the  witnesses.  While  this  was 
going  on  I  saw  him  take  a  piece  of  paper,  write 
a  few  words  on  it,  and  push  it  toward  one  of  the 
officers  of  the  court.  The  officer  glanced  at  the 
paper  and  passed  it  to  General  Blair,  who  had 
come  in  during  the  examination,  and  who,  after 
reading  it,  gave  the  man  an  astonished  look,  then 
turning  to  a  table  wrote  a  note  and  sent  it  off  by 
an  orderly. 

The  spy  stood  all  this  time  with  excellent  nerve, 
showing  no  concern  except  by  the  same  sharp 
glances  thrown  occasionally  toward  members  of 
the  court.  We  were  dismissed  after  giving  our 
evidence  regarding  his  capture,  and  of  having  seen 
him  several  times  within  our  lines.  The  sequel, 
which  we  learned  some  time  afterward,  I  shall 
give  in  its  proper  place. 

We  inquired  next  day  about  him,  and  were  told 
by  some  that  he  had  been  executed,  and  by  others 
that  he  had  been  sent  to  General  Grant's  headquar- 
ters and  had  not  been  heard  of  since.    For  several 


278  TOM  CLIFTON. 

weeks  my  right  arm,  in  wliich  I  had  received  a 
flesh  wound  at  Chickasaw  Bluff,  had  given  me 
trouble,  and  finally,  the  wound  breaking  out  afresh, 
I  was,  much  against  my  will,  sent  in  June  to  our 
hospital  for  treatment.  It  was  a  place  that  sol- 
diers as  a  rule  have  no  liking  for,  but  one  to  which 
they  must  sometimes  resort  in  cases  of  necessity. 

The  surgeon  was  a  great  burly  fellow  of  few 
words,  and  was  seemingly  better  fitted  for  a  sap- 
roller  than  a  field-officer.  He  examined  my 
wound,  evidently  considering  me  of  no  conse- 
quence except  as  the  owner  attached  to  the  injured 
member ;  for  after  squeezing  and  pinching  my  arm 
without  any  preliminary  other  than  a  grunt,  pro- 
duced a  sharp  instrument,  and  after  one  slashing 
cut,  gave  a  few  directions  to  the  assistant  and 
walked  out  without  looking  me  in  the  face  or  even 
saying  good-day. 

"  What  in  Tom  Walker  did  the  old  rascal  mean 
by  that?  "  I  exclaimed  between  howls.  The  assist- 
ant muttered  something  between  his  teeth,  pro- 
duced a  sponge,  carbolic  acid,  and  water  in  a  tin 
wash-basin,  and  proceeded  to  sponge  my  wound, 
still  muttering  replies  to  my  questions  between 
his  teeth,  and  gruffly  reprimanding  me  when  I 
howled  at  his  procedure.  At  last  he  condescended 
to  say,  "  Didn't  heal  from  the  bottom."  After 
winding  a  bandage  about  my  arm  and  saturating 
it  with  water  he  turned  me  loose.  For  several 
days  I  had  to  go  through  this  performance  every 


SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER.  279 

morning,  varied  by  having  the  wound  reamed  out 
with  caustic,  regarding  which  I  will  say  to  the 
uninitiated  that  it  was  worse  than  a  red-hot  iron. 
Carbolic  acid  and  caustic  were  the  only  antiseptics 
used  in  good  old  army  days. 

I  soon  began  to  like  the  gruff  fat  surgeon  and 
his  assistant,  notwithstanding  their  unceremonious 
manner  of  using  caustic  and  cutting  into  a  man 
without  consulting  him.  At  this  time  I  was 
granted  passes  to  be  absent  from  hospital  quarters 
during  a  part  of  the  day. 

One  Sunday  shortly  after  my  entrance  to  the 
hospital  I  wandered  down  to  the  camp  of  a  Massa- 
chusetts regiment  (which  had  been  sent  to  re-en- 
force our  line  during  the  siege)  to  attend  a  religous 
service  held  at  its  headquarters. 

The  preacher  in  a  nasal  tone  gave  out  as  a  text, 
"  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wis- 
dom." He  preached  an  excellent  sermon,  arguing 
that  the  fear  of  the  Lord  drove  out  all  other 
kinds  of  fear,  and  it  was  therefore  important  that 
soldiers  should  have  it.  The  speaker  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far,  however,  before  I  discovered  a  strange 
familiarity  in  tone  and  gesture.  "  What  is  the 
chaplain's  name  ?  "    I  inquired. 

"  Reverend  Uriah  Johnson,"  was  the  reply. 

It  was  my  old  schoolmaster,  very  much  improved 
in  manner,  dress,  and  speech.  The  sermon  was 
not  ended  when  one  of  the  rebel  batteries  began 
an  uproar  and  the  shell  howled  their  hoarse  un- 
musical anathemas  around  us. 


280  TOM  CLIFTON, 

The  Reverend  Uriah  was  evidently  not  yet  thor- 
oughly accustomed  to  such  church  music ;  for 
before  I  could  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  him  I  saw 
him  with  his  hat  off,  on  the  off  side  of  his  horse, 
running  along  by  his  side,  urging  him  forward  with 
a  click  of  the  tongue,  and  paying  no  heed  to  the 
laughter  of  the  boys  of  the  regiment,  who  unchari- 
tably shouted,  "  The  fear  of  the  Lord  will  take  away 
all  that,  parson  !  " 

I  saw  Parson  Uriah  after  this ;  and  re-entroducing 
myself  as  his  old  pupil,  we  were  soon  on  good 
terms.  From  him  I  got  news  from  Centreboro,  and 
also  learned  that  he  intended  to  resign  his  com- 
mission soon  and  to  settle  in  the  West. 

On'  the  3d  of  July  I  met  Sam  Ryder,  who  had  a 
genius  for  hearing  news  before  any  one  else.  He 
rushed  up  to  me  exclaiming,  — 

"  Say,  neow,  heard  the  news,  Tom  ?  " 

"  No  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  rebs  are  going  ter  surrender  as  true  as  yer 
live  ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  Sam  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,  I  jest  see  General  Grant  ridin'  deown 
that  way,"  pointing  towards  McPherson's  line, 
"  as  cool  as  an  old  iceberg,  an'  they  dew  say  he's 
gone  ter  see  old  Pemberton  to  talk  over  the  terms 
o'  surrender." 

"  I  'low,"  said  Jim  Fowler,  "  we've  got  the  rebs 
whar  their  ha'r  is  short,  and  they  are  thinkin'  of 
surrender." 


Parson  Uriah  niniiiiig  away.  — I'age  280. 


SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER.  281 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

'•'•  Think  I  why  they  say  so  themselves,"  said 
Jim.  "  One  of  'em  said  only  last  night,  '  We  uns 
hev  ter  give  up  the  tussle  right  soon,  fer  you  uns 
has  got  a  heap  more  grub  fixin's  than  we  uns. 
Our  mule  meat's  most  giv'  out.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  Sam  Ryder,  "  they  dew  sing  low  if 
that's  their  tune." 

Just  then  cheer  after  cheer  rolled  down  the  line 
from  the  direction  of  McPherson's  corps.  We 
learned  later  that  the  sight  of  white  flags  displayed 
along  the  rebel  line  had  provoked  these  cheers. 

The  white  flag  had  appeared  on  McPherson's 
front  at  two  o'clock  p.m.,  and  by  noon  the  fact  was 
generally  known  along  our  whole  line. 

"We  got  this  newspaper  of  them  the  other 
night,"  said  Sam,  showing  me  a  sheet  printed  on 
the  blank  side  of  a  piece  of  wall-paper.  "  Now,  just 
read  this.  '  The  Yankees  boast  they'll  take  din- 
ner in  Vicksburg  on  the  4th  of  July,  but  the  best 
recipe  for  cooking  a  rabbit  is  "  first  catch  your 
rabbit."'"  .  .  . 

On  the  4th,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  rebels  formed  in 
line  in  front  of  the  works,  stacked  arms,  and  re- 
turned within  their  fortifications,  without  a  cheer 
going  up  from  the  Union  line.  The  scene  was 
pathetic  to  us,  and,  knowing  how  bravely  these 
men  had  defended  their  city,  we  respected  them. 

After  sick-call  that  morning  I  went  down  to  my 
regiment,    and,   to  my  astonishment,  found  thera 


282  TOM  CLIFTON. 

formed  in  line  ready  to  march  away.  I  learned 
that  the  whole  corps  had  received  marching  orders.-* 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  inquired  of  the  colonel. 

"  General  Sherman  says  we  are  going  to  clean 
out  Joe  Johnston  now,"  was  the  reply.  "  I'd  like 
to  go  into  Vicksburg,  but  duty  is  duty." 

With  a  rousing  cheer  for  the  capture  of  Vicks- 
burg the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps  began  its  march 
again. 

Vicksburg  had  fallen,  and  in  the  expressive 
language  of  our  good  President,  Abraham  Lincoln, 
"  The  father  of  waters  flowed  unvexed  to  the  sea." 
Thirty-one  thousand  six  hundred  prisoners  were 
surrendered,  one  hundred  and  seventy-two  cannon, 
sixty  thousand  muskets,  and  four  thousand  small 
arms,  the  largest  surrender  of  men  and  material 
ever  made  up  to  that  time  in  the  history  of  war. 

After  the  fall  of  Vicksburg  and  its  corollary, 
Port  Hudson,  which  surrendered  to  Banks  on  the 
8th  of  July,  the  Mississippi  was  wholly  in  poses- 
sion  of  the  Union  army,  and  formed  a  line  of  sep- 
aration between  the  eastern  and  western  members 
of  the  Confederacy. 


SCENES  AROUND   VICKSBURG.  283 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

SCENES   AROUND   VICKSBUEG. 

After  the  surrender,  tlie  entire  garrison,  com- 
prising over  thirty  thousand  men,  were  paroled 
not  to  take  up  arms  again  until  declared  exchanged 
by  the  proper  authorities. 

The  exceptions  to  this  were  a  few  who  refused 
parole,  preferring  to  go  north  as  prisoners  of  war. 

On  the  6th  I  got  a  pass  and  went  into  the  city, 
which  I  had  a  great  curiosity  to  explore. 

It  was  a  novel  sight.  The  people  thronged  the 
sidewalks,  Union  and  Confederate  soldiers  frater- 
nizing, walking  arm  in  arm,  swapping  knives  and 
sharing  each  other's  rations,  discussing  the  cam- 
paign, and  associating  in  the  most  friendly  spirit. 
Even  the  non-combatants,  who  were  usually  the 
hardest  to  propitiate  during  the  war  and  after- 
wards (especially  women),  received  us  with  toler- 
able kindness.  They  answered  our  inquiries  with 
civility,  and  sometimes  voluntarily  showed  us 
things  of  interest  connected  with  the  siege. 

Among  the  interesting  features  of  conflict  were 
the  caves  they  had  dug  in  the  hillsides  and  steep 
banks  as  a  jrotection  ^against  the  shot  and  shell 


284  TOM  CLIFTON. 

which  daily  fell  into  the  city  from  our  mortar-rafts 
and  gunboats.  They  were  perfectly  bomb-proof, 
and  there  was  often  considerable  ingenuity  dis- 
played in  their  construction.  Some  of  them  con- 
tained fireplaces,  shelves,  cupboards  (all  of  earth), 
and  in  some  places  they  were  divided  into  three 
or  more  rooms.  When  exposed  to  the  air  the  clayey 
earth  hardened,  and  this  added  to  the  utility  and 
comfort  of  these  caves. 

One  woman  told  me  that  there  were  intervals  at 
morning,  noon,  and  night  when  there  was  little  or 
no  firing,  and  at  these  times  they  went  out  for 
exercise  or  prepared  their  meals. 

The  city  was  not  so  much  battered  as  one  would 
suppose  considering  the  constant  bombardment  to 
which  it  had  been  exposed,  although  ragged  holes 
where  shell  had  traversed  the  walls  were  common, 
and  I  saw  some  buildings  down  by  the  water  with 
their  gable  ends  to  the  river,  that  were  in  a  dilapi- 
dated condition. 

The  colored  people  were  very  jubilant,  and  very 
grateful  for  food  issued. 

The  citizens,  especially  the  old  men  who  consti- 
tuted the  large  majority  of  male  citizens,  seemed 
relieved  by  the  surrender.  They  accepted  govern- 
ment rations  with  more  avidity  than  thankfulness. 
The  women  did  not  express  so  much  gratitude  as 
one  might  have  expected  under  the  circumstances. 
I  heard  them  bitterly  declaiming  against  General 
Grant  and  the  Yankee  Government  as  they  yet 
called  the  United  States  authorities. 


SCENES'^lRpUND    VICKSBURG.  285 


On  the  7th  our  hospital  was  removed  to  the 
high  land  near  Vicksburg  because  of  more  healthy 
conditions,  and  this  enabled  me  to  visit  the  city 
daily. 

Two  or  three  days  after  the  surrender,  as  I 
was  rambling  around  the  place,  I  was  attracted 
by  a  chorus  of  magnificent  negro  voices  singing  a 
song  with  which  I  had  years  before  become  famil- 
iar, ''  Roll.  Jordan,  Roll."  I  stopped  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  crowd  to  listen  a  moment,  when  one  of  the 
colored  n.en  began  to  exhort,  and  as  the  earnest- 
ness of  tl  e  speaker  arrested  my  attention,  I  still 
lingered.  The  speaker  began  by  saying,  "•  My 
mars'er  is  Jesus.  I  want  no  other  mars'er,  'case 
he's  so  good ;  he  was  like  a  li'le  chile ;  and  de 
Word  say,  '  Ob  such  am  de  kingdom.'  For  de 
Scripture  say,  'Cept  ye  become  as  a  li'le  chile  ye  shall 
not  see  de  mars'er.  Years  ago,  bredren,  I  lef  dis 
home  o'  bondage,  and  wur  born  to  freedom.  I 
trabble  up  dis  great  Missippi  ribber  to  St.  Paul; 
not  St.  Paul  de  prophet,  but  St.  Paul  de  city,  dat 
am  set  on  a  hill.  A  white  man  tuck  pity  on  me  ; 
dat  were  like  Jesus,  'case  he  war  like  a  li'le  chile, 
he  nebbtr  t'ink  any  one  tell  lie  to  him.  So  he 
tuck  me  at  my  word  like  a  li'le  chile  ;  fed  me,  hid 
me,  and  helped  me  to  freedom  ;  and  ob  such  are  de 
kingdom  up  dar.  De  t'ings  of  heaben  are  revealed 
unto  babes, 'case  day  don'  know  what  bad  means; 
dey's  clar  ob  it  like  dat  good  man." 

Something    in    the    earnest     vibration    of    the 


286  TOM  CLIFTON. 

speaker's  words  touched  me  deeply,  and  the  nu- 
merous "  Amens  "  and  "  Glorys  "  vociferated  by  the 
audience  showed  that  his  words  were  understood 
and  appreciated  by  them.  For  the  first  time  the 
speaker  turned  his  face  towards  me,  and  then  I 
understood.  It  was  Aleck  ;  older,  more  bent  and 
careworn,  but  the  same  Aleck  I  had  known  eight 
years  before  in  my  dear  prairie  home. 

I  made  my  way  through  the  crowd  to  speak  to 
him  ;  but  he  did  not  know  me,  as  in  the  interval  I 
had  grown  from  youth  to  manhood. 

When  I  made  him  understand  that  I  was,  as  he 
called  me,  "  young  Massa  Clifton,"  he  clasped  me 
in  his  strong  arms  as  if  I  was  still  a  child,  and 
while  the  tears  ran  down  his  black  cheeks,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Bress  de  Lord  fur  dis  sight  to  my  ole 
eyes.  It's  Massa  Clifton's  chile  !  It's  Massa  Clif- 
ton's chile  !  Dat  man  I  tole  you  of  who  is  like  a 
li'le  chile,  he's  so  good  of  heart."  And  then  paus- 
ing he  exclaimed,  "But  de  good  Lord!  how  ye's 
growed ! " 

After  a  few  more  words  of  explanation  to  his 
sable  audience  he  fell  on  his  knees,  saying,  "  Let 
us  pray  !  "  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  I 
got  on  my  knees  with  those  humble  men  and 
women. 

Though  the  congratulations  and  manifestations 
of  regard  were  rather  overwhelming  and  patroniz- 
ing, yet  I  am  sure  their  expressions  of  good-will 
were  as  sincere  as  any  I  have  ever  received  in  my 
life. 


SCENES  AROUND    VICKSBURG.  287 

We  had  withdrawn  from  the  crowd  at  last,  and 
Aleck  had  begrun  to  tell  me  about  his  life  since  he 
was  kidnapped  back  into  slavery,  when  a  cold, 
commanding  voice  interrupted  him,  exclaiming, 
"  Aleck!  Aleck  !  I  say,  boy  I  Aleck  I  "  and  com- 
ing across  the  street  was  a  man  in  the  uniform  of 
a  Confederate  officer. 

"  Who  is  that,  Aleck  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Dat  ar's  Massa  George.  He's  powerful  towsy 
ob  late  ;  he  keeps  sayin',  Massa  George  does,  since 
de  surrender :  '  Boy,  we's  'lowed  to  tuck  our  ser- 
vants wid  us.' " 

"  Why,  Aleck !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  you  are  free  ! 
President  Lincoln  issued  a  proclamation  in  Janu- 
ary giving  you  all  your  freedom,  —  all  the  slaves." 

The  officer  heard  these  last  words,  and  glancing 
coldly  and  suspiciously  at  me,  he  said,  "  Aleck, 
what  are  you  talking  to  this  man  about  ?  Come 
along,  boy ! " 

I  was  so  exasperated  and  angry  at  his  assumed 
ownership  of  Aleck,  as  well  as  by  a  certain  look 
or  tone  of  assumption  of  superiority,  that  I  ex- 
claimed, "  We  soldiers  have  some  rights  here  as  well 
as  yourself,  sir ; "  and  here  for  the  first  time  I  looked 
him  squarely  in  the  face.  I  gasped  in  absolute  as- 
tonishment and  exclaimed,  "It  is  the  spy  Wild 
Dog!"  He  had  the  same  yellowish  stiff  beard  and 
thin  face,  but  yet  the  expression  seemed  different. 

The  Confederate  turned  a  trifle  paler,  but  did 
not  avoid  my  eye  as  he  said,  "  Who  might  you  be, 
sar?" 


288  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"I?  I  am  Sergeant  Clifton,  at  your  service. 
Who  are  you?  "  I  replied  rather  brusquely. 

He  was  respectful  enough  in  words,  but  with  a 
look  of  sarcasm  and  hauteur.,  he  said,  "  I  am  Cap- 
tain George  Spring  of  the  Confederate  army,  sar, 
and  presume  that  you  will  not  entice  this  boy  away 
with  you,  as  I  have  a  pass  given  me  by  your  su- 
periors allowing  him  to  accompany  me  outside  the 
Union  lines.  Come  along,  Aleck  !  Come  along, 
boy!"  _  _ 

I  replied  angrily,  "  He  is  not  a  boy,  but  a  man  ; 
not  a  slave,  but  is  free,  sir ! "  and  I  held  on  to 
Aleck,  refusing  to  let  him  go  with  his  assumed 
master. 

Just  then  a  mounted  officer  of  our  army  riding 
down  the  street,  I  called  out  to  him.  He  rode  up 
to  the  sidewalk,  saying,  "What  is  it?  What's 
going  on  here,  sergeant  ?  "  I  saw  that  it  was  Gen- 
eral John  A.  Logan,  whom  his  men  often  affec- 
tionately called  "  Black  Jack." 

In  a  few  words  I  informed  him  of  the  situation, 
and  added,  pointing  to  Captain  Spring,  "  He  is  a 
spy,  general !  I  saw  that  man  inside  our  lines 
at  Camp  'Can't  Git-away,'  and  again  at  Shiloh 
dressed  as  a  citizen." 

"  'Fore  de  Lord,  I  reckon  not,  Massa  Clifton,  I 
reckon  not !  "  interrupted  Aleck. 

General  Logan's  face  had  grown  dark  with 
anger,  while  the  Confederate  officer,  whose  reddish 
bristling  beard  seemed  to  give   greater  pallor  to 


"I  am  Captain  George  Spring  of  tlie  Confederate  army." 
—  Page  2SS. 


SCEiXES  AROUND    VICKSBURG.  289 

his  face,  with  flashing  eyes  exclaimed,  "  It's  a  lie, 
general !     I  can  explain  it  all." 

He  assumed  an  air  of  boldness  and  candor  not 
at  all  in  keeping  with  the  sly,  watchful  expression 
I  had  formerly  observed,  and  which  now  began  to 
make  me  doubtful  of  his  identity  with  the  Confed- 
erate spy,  or  "  Wild  Dog "  as  Peter  had  called 
him. 

Some  of  Logan's  division  were  in  the  street ;  and 
he  ordered  them  to  bring  the  officer  to  his  quar- 
ters, and  also  told  me  to  bring  Aleck  with  me  to 
that  place,  where  he  promised  to  make  an  investi- 
gation of  the  facts. 

Accompanied  by  Aleck,  at  five  o'clock  that 
evening  I  presented  myself  at  General  Logan's 
quarters.  There  I  found  Captain  George  Spring 
and  several  officers  of  his  regiment,  by  whose  testi- 
mony he  showed  that  he  had  been  continuously 
with  his  regiment  since  its  organization ;  and  to  my 
astonishment,  when  General  Logan  questioned 
Aleck  he  corroborated  these  statements  by  saying 
that  he  had  been  Sj)ring's  body-servant  for  several 
years,  during  which  time  he  had  been  with  him 
daily  except  when  in  battle. 

At  which  Captain  Spring,  looking  towards  me, 
said  in  a  tone  of  triumph,  "  Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

I  said  to  General  Logan,  "  There's  some  mistake 
about  the  spy."  Turning  to  Captain  Spring,  I  said, 
"  I  am  satisfied  about  that  part ;  but  will  you  ex- 
plain how  it  was  that  after  being  wounded  and 


290  TOM  CLIFTON. 

taken  prisoner,  and  paroled  with  the  inmates  of  the 
hospital  at  Shiloh,  you  violated  your  parole  and 
escaped  ?  " 

For  a  moment  an  angry  flush  overspread  his 
face ;  but  then  as  he  evidently  saw  that  I  did  not 
intend  an  insult,  but  simply  wished  for  an  expla- 
nation, lie  replied,  "  I  was  not  wounded  at  Shiloh, 
My  horse  was  shot  and  fell  on  me,  and  I  was 
stunned  and  hurt  for  a  time." 

"  And  you  got  away  after  being  paroled?" 

"  No ;  that's  a  mistake  ;  only  the  sick  and 
wounded  were  paroled ;  I  was  neither.  The 
medical  director  (Lyle)  said  the  terms  were  not 
binding  on  me,  and  I  took  a  horse  and  rode 
away,  and  was  glad  to  do  so,"  said  he,  laughing 
at  the  remembrance. 

"Are  you  satisfied?"  he  again  politely  inquired. 
"  If  so  "  (bowing  to  General  Logan)  "  the  boy  and 
I  will  be  going." 

"  Yes,  I  am  satisfied  with  your  explanation. 
There  has  been  a  misunderstanding;  but  there 
can  be  none  about  the  fact  that  Aleck  is  a  free 
man ;  is  there.  General  ? 

Captain  Spring  had  taken  Aleck  by  the  sleeve, 
when  "  Black  Jack,"  removing  his  cigar  from  his 
mouth,  said  to  Aleck,  "  You  needn't  go ;  you  are  a 
free  man,  and  can  go  where  you  like.  If  you 
choose  to  go  with  either  of  these  men  no  one  will 
hinder  you." 

Aleck  had  sidled  nearer  and  nearer  to  me  as  if 


SCENES  AROUND    VICKSBURG.  291 

for  moral  support,  and  said,  "  I  goes  with  young 
Massa  Tom !  " 

"  You  hear  this  man's  decision,"  said  General 
Logan,  "  and  will  act  accordingly  !  " 

Captain  Spring  said,  ''  The  boy  has  been  enticed 
away.     I'll  appeal  to  your  superior  officer." 

"  Black  Jack  "  looked  blacker  still  as  he  said  in 
angry  tones,  "  So  will  I ;  "  and  turning  to  his  desk 
he  wrote  the  following  letter :  — 

Colonel  Rawlins,  Assistant  Adjuta7it-Qe7ieral:^ 

Sir,  —  I  solemnly  protest,  as  an  officer  of  the  United  States 
army,  against  the  manner  in  which  the  Confederate  officers 
are  permitted  to  intimidate  their  servants  in  the  presence 
of  officers  appointed  to  examine  said  servants,  and  also 
against  passes  permitting  them  to  go  out  with  their  mas- 
ters. The  manner  in  which  the  thing  is  being  done  is  con- 
niving at  furnishing  negroes  to  every  officer  who  is  a  pris- 
oner in  Vicksburg.  John  A.  Logan, 

Major-General,  U.  S.  A. 

After  this  I  went  with  Aleck  to  get  what  he 
called  his  "  propurty." 

When  the  captain  found  that  he  could  not  get  his 
servant  into  the  rebel  lines  with  himself  he  sub- 
mitted more  gracefully  than  I  expected  he  would, 
although  he  showed  some  anger  at  first  at  what  he 
called  enticing  away  his  servant. 

"  He  can  go  with  you,  if  you  can  entice  him,"  I 
said. 

"  Massa  George,"  said  Aleck  humbly,  "  I'se 
'bliged  to  yer,  but  Massa  Clifton  and  de  general 
1  This  is  a  genuine  letter. 


292  TOM  CLIFTON. 

says  Fse  free,  and  I  wants  to  try  freedom  some 
more  !  " 

"Haven't  1  been  a  good  master  to  you,  Aleck?" 
said  Captain  Spring. 

"Yes,  Massa  George,  yer  has:  I'm  'bliged  ter 
yer.  I'se  mighty  fon'  ob  you,  but  I'se  don'  glad 
I'se  got  freedom,  fer,  Massa  George,  suppose  yer 
got  killed  and  yer  brudder  Leroy  got  me  agin, 
whah'l  become  of  Aleck  den?" 

The  captain  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  his 
head  dropped  as  if  this  were  a  home  thrust.  Then 
in  a  most  manly  way  he  replied,  putting  his  hand 
on  Aleck's  shoulder,  "Aleck,  you  may  be  right. 
For  a  bright  boy  like  you  freedom  may  be  prefer- 
able. I  wouldn't  like  for  Leroy  to  get  his  hands 
on  you  again ;  for  although  he  is  my  brother,  he  is 
not  a  good  master."  Then  turning  to  me  he  said, 
"Aleck  has  always  been  a  good  boy;  he  would 
never  have  left  us  but  for  my  brother,  who  treated 
him  roughly  and  sold  him  to  a  rascal.  None  but 
gentlemen  should  own  servants,  sar." 

"Is  not  slavery  all  wrong?  "  I  asked.  "  Does  it 
not  take  away  a  man's  self-reliance  and  self-will 
and  leave  him  as  a  child?  " 

The  captain  said  pleasantly,  "  That's  the  Yankee 
way  of  looking  at  it.  Yet  we  find  that  when  the 
Northern  men  become  masters,  they  are  more  ex- 
acting than  Southern  gentlemen.  We  own  ser- 
vants as  a  convenience,  not  as  a  means  of  making 
money." 


SCENES  AROUND    VICKSBURG.  293 

Before  we  left,  Captain  Spring  spoke  pleasantly 
with  Aleck,  gave  him  a  silver  piece,  and  said,  "  I 
wish  I  had  something  more  to  give  you.  You  have 
been  a  good  servant.  I  don't  like  to  turn  you 
loose  among  these  Yanks  without  anything  to  be- 
gin life  with." 

"Bless  yer,  honey,  I  has  my  ban's  and  self," 
said  Aleck.  "  I'm  mighty  sorr}^  to  leab  yer,  Massa 
George,  but  I  reckon  I  wouldn't  like  to  fall  into 
de  ban's  ob  Massa  Leroy." 

The  captain  departed,  bowing  stiffly  to  me,  and 
I  was  sure  my  opinion  of  him  had  gone  up  fifty 
per  cent  since  our  first  interview. 

That  evening  Aleck  gave  me  some  of  the  details 
of  his  life  since  he  left  us  eight  years  before.  He 
explained  many  things  that  I  had  not  understood. 

Leroy  Spring  was  a  reckless  speculator,  rover, 
and  gamester.  He  had  plied  his  vocation  as  a 
gambler  on  the  Mississippi  river  boats,  and  had 
been  among  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest  and  at 
military  stations  on  the  frontier,  as  a  trader.  It 
was  on  one  of  his  visits  to  St.  Paul  that  he  had 
recognized  Aleck,  and  had  determined  to  kidnap 
and  afterward  to  buy  him  cheaply  from  his  mas- 
ter, and  make  some  money  by  that  method. 

When  Aleck,  with  the  assistance  of  the  old  cap- 
tain of  the  steamboat,  had  escaped,  Leroy  Spring 
advertised  for  him  and  he  was  soon  captured. 
Whether  Spring  had  ever  bought  him  of  his 
former  owner  he  could  not  tell.     He  took  him  to 


294  TOM  CLIFTON. 

New  Orleans  after  his  brother  George  had  twice 
interfered  to  save  Aleck  from  punishment.  Aleck 
showed  me  his  back,  which  was  covered  with  scars 
caused  by  whipping  and  pickling.  He  said, 
"Massa  Leroy  was  a  right  smart  hard  man  when 
he  was  drunk.  Massa  George  say  one  day,  '  Le- 
roy, you  no  gentleman.  Dat  Aleck  good  boy  if 
he  have  good  master.'  Massa  Leroy  say,  '  Hum ! 
better  buy  dat  boy,  and  set  him  Christian  zample  ; 
he'll  run  away,  bet  yer  hunderd  dollars.  Yer  got 
ter  keep  him  down,  to  keep  dat  boy.  He  too  smart 
fer  a  nigger  I '  Massa  George  he  say  ter  me, '  Aleck, 
if  I  buys  yer  an'  treats  yer  well,  will  yer  be  a  right 
good  servant  and  not  run  away  ?  '  An'  I  say, '  Massa 
George,  I  promise  'fore  de  good  Lord  I'll  nebber 
run  away  till  I  changes  massas.'  An'  I  kep'  my 
promise.  I'se  been  powerful  tempted  to  run  to  de 
Yankee  army  since  de  war  began,  'case  I  reckon  I 
know  what  kin'  o'  folks  dc}^  is.  Massa  George 
done  trus'  me,  an'  I  don'  know  'bout  de  wirtue  ob 
leabin'  him  now ;  but  I  reckon,  Massa  Tom,  de 
owner  ob  dis.  Aleck  is  changed,  and  I  tink  I'se 
boss  ob  dis  nigger  myself  arter  dis  yere  time." 

Notwithstanding  Aleck  considered  himself 
"  boss  of  Aleck,"  he  followed  me  about  for  a 
time  like  my  shadow.  He  worked  around  the  hos- 
pital waiting  on  the  surgeon,  but  refused  to  be- 
come the  servant  of  any  one,  although  he  had 
plenty  of  chances  to  get  employment  at  good 
wages  in  that  capacity. 


SCENES  AROUND    VICKSBURG.  295 

It  was  on  tlie  27th  of  July  that  I  was  discharged 
from  the  hospital  and  ordered  to  report  to  my  regi- 
ment, which  was  twenty  miles  east  of  Vicksburg, 
where  the  Fifteenth  Army  Corps  was  then  holding 
the  line  of  the  Big  Black. 

Before  I  left  Vicksburg  I  was  astonished  to  re- 
ceive a  visit  from  my  big  brother-in-law,  Jonathan, 
who  had  been  shipped  as  he  called  it  in  the  navy, 
and  had  been  promoted  to  be  a  master's  mate.  I 
introduced  Aleck  to  him,  and  he  offended  me  by 
saying,  "  He's  a  very  common-looking  nigger, 
Tom  !  "  He  had  a  letter  from  father,  full  of 
news  about  those  near  and  dear  to  me.  Father 
said  that  the  war  had  carried  away  most  of  the 
young  men  from  the  settlement,  and  that  he  was 
compelled  to  hire  Indians  and  foreigners  and  stay 
at  home  to  superintend  them.  He  regretted  that 
the  privilege  of  doing  something  for  his  country 
was  denied  him.  I  had  written  to  him  about  find- 
ing Aleck  ;  but  he  had  not  yet  received  the  letter, 
or  at  least  he  did  not  state  that  he  had. 


296  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

AFTER   VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXVILLB. 

After  the  incidents  narrated  in  the  foregoing 
chapter  I  wrote  to  my  father  an  account  of  Aleck's 
reappearance.  I  received  an  answer  which  showed 
that  my  letter  had  created  great  interest  in  Lake- 
view,  where  the  story  of  Aleck's  disappearance  was 
well  known.  My  father  wrote  that  if  Aleck  was 
willing  I  might  send  him  to  the  settlement  at  his 
(my  father's)  expense,  where  he  would  guarantee 
him  steady  employment  at  good  wages. 

I  read  the  letter  to  Aleck  who,  with  much  intel- 
ligence and  feeling,  replied  that  the  war  had  now 
become  the  colored  man's  war,  and  he  believed 
duty  required  him  to  fight  to  secure  the  freedom 
given  to  his  people  by  Mr.  Lincoln's  proclamation, 
which  it  seemed  he  had  read  and  discussed  with 
his  people. 

I  laughingly  said,  "  There  is  no  mistake,  Aleck, 
but  you  have  got  the  war  fever  and  want  to  be  a 
hero." 

"  Can't  tell,"  said  Aleck,  whose  ideas  of  heroes 
seemed  to  be  rather  mixed;  "  maybe  I'll  git  to  be  a 
ossifer." 


AFTER    VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXVILLE.    297 

"  Yes,  Aleck,"  I  replied ;  "  but  you'll  find  that 
knapsacks  are  heavy  and  long  marches  and  fight- 
ing desperately  dangerous  and  disagreeable." 

Aleck  soberly  replied,  "  I  'speck  de  day  o'  jubi- 
lee will  come  tru'  sorrer  and  de  red  sea  o'  trouble. 
War  means  kill,  kill  all  de  time,  an'  when  I  hear 
dem  gunboat  shells  comin'  an'  sayin'  wTiar-r-r  ish- 
h-h  he-e-e  noiv-iv-u\  I'se  mighty  skeered  and  like  ter 
git  into  de  bum  proof ;  but  I'se  got  used  to  dem 
shell,  and  dey  carn't  scar  me  no  mo'." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  will  write  to  my  father  and 
tell  him  you  would  rather  stay  here." 

"  Massa  Tom,"  said  Aleck  reproachfully,  "  I'se 
like  to  see  Massa  Clifton  powerful,  an'  dat  yer  sod 
house,  and  dem  mules  and  bosses,  an'  be  a  Ian' 
owner,  but  'pears  like  it  am  my  duty  to  tote  de 
burden  ob  my  people  fro'  de  Ian'  o'  bondage." 

"  Sort  of  a  Moses,"  I  said;  "is  that  it,  Aleck?  " 

Aleck's  voice  broke  and  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  as  he  said,  ''  Massa  Tom,  yer  makin'  fun  o' 
dis  yer  boy,  but  I  means  it,  an'  befo'  dis  war  am 
ober  I  may  fin'  m}-  wife  and  li'l  chile." 

I  felt  that  the  brave  fellow  was  right  and  told 
him  so. 

Several  colored  regiments  were  forming  at  Vicks- 
burg  at  this  time,  but  before  Aleck  enlisted  I  got 
my  discharge  from  the  hospital  and  he  accompa- 
nied me  to  see  '•  Massa  Peter  "  and  "  young  Massa 
Matt."  My  knapsack  was  rather  heavy ;  and  as 
Aleck  offered  to   >•  tote  "  it  for  me,  I  thought  it 


298  TOM  CLIFTON. 

would  be  a  good  breaking-in  for  his  war  experience. 
He  had  not  carried  it  over  a  mile  when  he  showed 
signs  of  distress,  and  finally,  as  we  halted  to  rest,  he 
said,  "  Massa  Tom,  'pears  to  me  dat  knapsack 
made  of  lead  or  hab  a  right  smart  lot  ob  bricks 
in  it." 

So,  notwithstanding  his  shame-faced  protest,  I 
strapped  it  on  my  own  back,  and,  as  long  use  had 
accustomed  me  to  the  burden,  was  not  a  little 
proud  to  show  Aleck  how  easily  I  carried  it. 

We  found  the  regiment  occupying  a  comfortable 
camp  near  a  magnificent  grove.  General  Sherman 
had  his  headquarters  tent  pitched  here  near  a  house 
occupied,  we  understood,  by  some  Southern  friends 
of  his. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Matt  and  Peter  (as  well 
as  other  comrades)  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome. 

They  did  not  at  first  recognize  Aleck ;  but  when 
I  told  how  I  had  accidentally  met  him,  it  became 
the  talk  of  the  regiment,  and  the  boys  treated  him 
as  well  as  if  he  had  been  white. 

"Why,"  said  Matt,  "  it  would  read  like  a  story 
if  it  was  put  into  print."  The  first  evening  in  camp 
Matt  told  us  about  the  attack  on  Jackson,  where 
Peter  had  won  his  sergeant's  warrant  once  more. 

During  the  time  we  remained,  Peter  and  Aleck 
were  constantly  together,  and  it  was  plain  that 
Aleck  reverenced  Peter's  stripes  and  chevrons. 
He  was  very  reluctant  to  part  from  us,  but  finally 
left  our  camp,  and  in  a  few  days  I  received  a  letter 


AFTER    VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXVILLE.      299 

written  in  a  cramped  hand,  of  which  the  following 
is  a  copy :  — 

"  Dun  gon  'listed  in  cullud  reg'ment,  24tli  fur  corpural. 

Aleck." 

It  was  in  the  very  heart  of  the  summer,  July  28, 
when  I  rejoined  my  regiment. 

Until  September  nothing  seemed  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  situation  except  occasional  skir- 
mishes with  guerillas  and  detachments  of  the  en- 
emy's cavalry,  who  were  observing  the  line  of  the 
Big  Black.  Then  the  intelligence  came  that  Bragg 
had  beaten  Rosecrans  and  driven  him  into  Chatta- 
nooga, where,  the  railroad  in  his  rear  being  inade- 
quate to  supply  him  with  stores,  his  army  was  in 
danger  of  starvation. 

On  the  27th  our  division,  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Giles  Smith,  began  its  march,  reached  Vicks- 
burg  on  the  28th,  and  there  embarked  on  boats  for 
Memphis,  which  latter  place  on  account  of  the  scar- 
city of  fuel  for  our  engines,  we  did  not  reach  until 
October  2.  During  the  voyage  we  burned  most  of 
the  rail  fences  along  the  route,  and  a  large  amount 
of  green  wood,  in  getting  up  steam  enough  to  reach 
there  even  at  that  tardy  date. 

We  then  pushed  forward  to  Corinth,  and  from 
thence  to  luka,  near  where  we  were  engaged  in  re- 
pairing the  railroad,  when  an  incident  occurred 
which  caused  us  to  take  a  speedy  departure. 

On  the  27th  of  October,  while  I  was  sergeant  of 
the  guard  at  luka,  we  arrested  a  queer  and  dirty 


300  TOM  CLIFTON. 

individual  who  was  attempting  to  cross  the  camp- 
guard  line  without  a  pass.  He  had  a  dark  beard 
which  covered  his  mouth  and  chin,  and  was  dressed 
in  mixed  clothing,  as  if  he  had  picked  it  up  at  ran- 
dom. He  wore  a  Union  blue  dress-coat  with  the 
buttons  gone,  gray  trousers,  a  light  slouch  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  and  was  barefoot.  He 
spoke  with  a  queer  mixture  of  Southern  accent  and 
Irish  brogue. 

There  was  something  strangely  familiar  in  his 
voice,  though  rack  my  brain  as  I  would,  I  could 
not  remember  that  I  had  ever  seen  him  before.  In 
answer  to  all  inquiries  he  would  say,  "  I  done  gone 
want  to  see  General  Sherman,  sure  I've  got  a  big 
letther  fer  him." 

Finally  we  conducted  him  to  the  general,  who 
chanced  to  be  seated  on  the  porch  of  a  house  near 
by.  Without  words  he  handed  General  Sherman 
a  dirty  official  envelope.  The  general  opened  and 
read  it,  and  exclaimed  in  evident  surprise,  "  Where 
did  you  get  this?     Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Got  it,"  he  replied,  "  from  General  Crook." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"  Come  down  the  Tennessee  over  Muscle  Shoals, 
rebel  guerillas  poppin'  at  me  all  the  way.  Re- 
ported to  General  Blair  and  he  sent  me  to  you." 

Here  the  dirty  individual  gave  a  sharp  glance  at 
me  as  if  he  more  than  half  suspected  my  confusion, 
and  then  coolly  helped  himself  to  a  chair  beside 
our  general. 


"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?     Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 
—  Paire  300. 


AFTER    VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXVILLE.   301 

The  general  nodded  to  me,  saying,  "  He's  all 
right,  sergeant ;  you  can  go."  With  a  strange 
impression  upon  me  that  I  had  known  him  some- 
where before,  I  left  the  queer  individual  talking 
familiarly  with  the  general. 

That  same  night  we  got  orders  to  pack  up  and 
at  early  morning  the  whole  division  was  in  motion. 
As  we  marched  along  I  saw  this  stranger  riding 
with  the  general.  I  called  Matt's  attention  to  him, 
but  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  him  before.  I 
did  not  see  him  again  until  we  were  near  EUton, 
when  he  rode  his  horse  near  our  company  and  spoke 
a  word  to  Matt,  who  looked  up  with  such  startled 
surprise  as  almost  to  cause  him  to  drop  his  mus- 
ket. At  the  same  moment  this  man  started  up  his 
horse  and  rode  rapidly  awaj^  down  a  cross-road,  and 
that  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him  at  that  time. 

Matt  still  looked  in  open-mouthed  astonishment 
after  him  ;  and  when  I  inquired,  "What  is  it  ?  "  he 
replied,  "  Why,  that's  Michael  Ryan  I  that's  the 
spy  !  "  Then  it  came  upon  me  like  a  flash  —  yes, 
it's  Mike,  it's  Pike. 

"  Some  one  ought  to  speak  to  the  general  about 
him,"  said  Matt ;  "  he's  a  dangerous  man  !  " 

Peter  said  nothing,  but  shook  his  head.  It  was 
finally  agreed  that  when  we  halted  I  should  tell 
the  general  about  Michael  Ryan,  alias  Pike. 

It  was  a  peculiarity  of  General  Sherman  that  a 
common  soldier  could  address  him  without  rebuff, 
although  he  was  sometimes  di^stant  to  officers.     Af- 


302  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ter  we  halted  I  approached  him  and  requested  an 
opportunity  to  speak  to  him.  I  then  briefly  stated 
what  I  knew  about  Pike,  and  said  I  thought  it  my 
duty  to  warn  him.  The  general  smiled  and  said, 
"  It's  all  right,  sergeant.  Pike  is  a  good  man,  — 
a  scout,  spy  if  you  will,  but  on  the  right  side.  He 
brought  me  an  order  from  General  Grant,"  and 
then  in  an  undertone,  as  if  to  himself,  said,  "  a 
strange  man,  full  of  disguise,  ready  for  any  dan- 
gerous duty."  Looking  up  again  he  said  cordially, 
"  Thank  you,  sergeant ;  no  danger  from  him ;  he's 
gone." 

"What's  the  matter,  Tom?"  said  Matt,  as  I 
came  up  to  him.  "  You  look  as  if  you  had  been 
euchered." 

So  I  told  Matt  the  conversation  I  had  had  with 
General  Sherman,  and  we  agreed  that  the  contra- 
dictory characteristics  of  Michael  Ryan  were  puz- 
zling. 

The  message  which  the  scout  brought  to  Gen- 
eral Sherman  (so  I  have  since  learned)  read  as 
follows :  — 

"Drop  all  work  on  the  railroad  east  of  Bear  Creek  ;  push 
your  command  towards  Bridgeport  until  you  meet  orders. 

U.  S.  Grant,  Major  Gen'Z." 

General  Grant  had  been  ordered  to  Chattanooga 
and  was  now  in  command  of  the  armies  of  the 
Ohio,  the  Cumberland,  and  the  Tennessee,  with 
which  to  defeat  and  drive  out  Bragg  who  was  hold- 
ing this  point. 


AFTER    VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXYILLE.  303 

To  assist  in  furthering  Grant's  designs  \^'e  now 
began  a  forced  march  of  over  five  hundred  miles, 
over  miserable  roads,  through  the  enemj-'s  country, 
until  finally,  on  the  20th  of  November,  we  reached 
the  Tennessee  River,  near  Chattanooga. 

Without  pausing  for  rest,  on  the  21st  we  left 
our  camp  equipage  and  knapsacks,  and  taking  with 
us  only  two  days'  rations  and  a  single  army  blan- 
ket to  each  man  —  literally  stripped  for  the  fight  — 
we  crossed  the  Tennessee  to  co-operate  with  the 
other  forces  in  attacking  the  Confederates  who 
were  besieging  Grant  at  Chattanooga. 

On  the  22d,  under  cover  of  the  hills,  we  moved 
to  North  Chickamauga,  and  on  the  23d,  at  mid- 
night, took  possession  of  the  bridge  boats  which 
were  gathered  at  that  point,  and  silentl}"  dropped 
down  stream  below  the  mouth  of  Chickamauga 
Creek.  Here  we  embarked,  returning  the  boats  to 
the  other  side  of  the  river  for  a  fresh  supply  of 
troops. 

By  daylight  eight  thousand  men  had  been  landed 
on  the  east  banks  of  the  Tennessee,  ready  to  attack 
the  rebel  position  at  Missionary  Ridge. 

No  mere  statement  of  these  circumstances  can 
convey  an  idea  of  the  hardships  which  our  brave 
men  had  endured  up  to  this  time.  Although  it 
was  cold,  our  shoes  and  stockings  had  literally  worn 
from  our  feet,  and  Matt  quaintly  said  that  he  had 
only  the  outline  map  of  a  shirt  on  his  back.  Peter 
had  made  a  pair  of  moccasons  for  himself  and  a 


304  TOM  CLIFTON. 

pair  for  me  ;  but  I  should  be  ashamed  to  tell  in 
polite  society  of  the  dirty  and  dilapidated  con- 
dition of  1st  Sergeant  Thomas  Clifton  in  other 
respects. 

My  regiment,  on  being  landed  on  the  east  bank 
of  the  creek,  stealthily  moved  along  the  shore  and 
captured  all  but  one  of  the  rebel  pickets.  Mean- 
while a  bridge,  1,350  feet  long,  had  been  speedily 
made  from  the  boats  and  placed  across  the  mouth 
of  the  Chickamauga  Creek. 

It  was  raining  a  steady,  dreary  drizzle,  and  we 
had  scarcely  a  dry  thread  of  clothing  on  our  backs, 
when  at  one  o'clock  we  moved  forward  under  the 
cloak  of  the  low  clouds  that  concealed  us  from  the 
enemy,  to  capture  the  Mission  Hills. 

The  head  of  our  column,  covered  by  a  line  of 
skirmishers,  crept  up  the  steep  heights  and  had  se- 
cured the  summit  of  two  hills,  of  which  Mission 
Hills  were  a  continuation,  before  the  enemy  awoke 
to  the  movement.  Then,  '•'- whiz  !  hang!''''  their 
shot  and  shell  came  ploughing  down  the  hill. 
We  had,  however,  succeeded  in  getting  our  artil- 
lery up  the  heights  and  were  able,  as  Matt  said, 
"  to  give  them  a  bit  of  satisfaction  in  return." 

We  began  at  once  the  work  of  intrenching  on 
these  hill-tops,  and  continued  it  all  night,  leaving  a 
brigade  in  each  position. 

About  four  o'clock  the  enemy  opened  on  our 
brigade  (which  formed  the  left  flank  of  this  force) 
sharply  with  artillery  and  musketry.     During  this 


AFTER    VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXVILLE.   305 

action  its  general,  Giles  Smith,  was  wonnded  and 
left  the  field. 

If  ever  I  saw  a  cold  place  it  was,  in  s^jite  of  our 
bivouac  fires,  on  those  hills  that  night.  The  morn- 
ing dawned  clear  and  frosty. 

At  the  rising  of  the  sun  the  bugle  sounded  the 
"  forward."  As  the  blue  lines  advanced,  there  was 
a  flashing  of  sunlight  on  polished  arms,  then  the 
crackle  of  musketry,  and  lines  of  white  sulphur 
smoke  marked  the  enemy's  position  and  our 
own. 

During  a  moment's  halt  we  beheld  below  us  the 
beautiful  amphitheatre  of  the  Chattanooga ;  the 
Tennessee  River  like  a  silver  horseshoe  gleaming  in 
the  light  encircling  Moccasin  Point ;  the  city  be- 
yond ;  the  movements  of  troops  marching  to  posi- 
tion, and  all  around  the  grandeur  of  its  encircling 
hills  lent  to  the  scene  romance  and  beauty. 

A  hill  with  an  intervening  valley  separated  us 
from  another  of  the  same  series,  with  steep  wooded 
sides  and  narrow  crest.  At  its  farther  end,  in  a 
breastwork  of  logs  against  which  fresh  earth  had 
been  thrown,  were  seen  the  enemy.  On  a  hill  which 
rose  still  higher  than  the  one  above  the  railroad 
tunnel  they  could  be  seen  in  great  force. 

In  the  gorge  below  and  above  the  railroad  tunnel, 
which  could  not  be  seen  from  our  position,  ran  sev- 
eral roads. 

Near  here  the  rebels  had  massed  a  strong  force, 
and  later  in  the  day,  when  Sherman  attempted  to 


306  TOM  CLIFTON. 

capture  their  communication  with  their  depot  at 
Chickamauga,  they  poured  their  men  through  tliis 
tunnel  in  a  resistless  tide,  and  swept  our  men  back 
in  deadly  defeat. 

General  Corse,  with  General  Lightburn  co-oper- 
ating, advanced  his  men  along  a  narrow  ridge  and 
attacked  the  enemy  from  our  right  centre,  while 
we  moved  along  the  east  base  of  Mission  Ridge 
connecting  with  General  Corse,  who  soon  gained 
an  important  secondary  crest  where  the  fighting 
became  fierce  and  hot.  Here  the  position  was 
held  while  the  fight  was  at  its  height. 

At  the  railroad  embankment  and  tunnel  the  bat- 
tle was  most  desperate.  With  our  division  it  was 
a  close,  persistent,  continuous  struggle.  From  the 
hills  occupied  by  the  enemy  there  came  a  concen- 
tric plunging  artillery  fire  upon  us,  and  from  dif- 
ferent directions  the  columns  of  the  enemy  were 
seen  streaming  towards  us.  On  our  side  there  was 
an  occasional  shot  from  Orchard  Knob  and  symp- 
toms of  a  fight  at  Lookout. 

Our  company  had  halted  under  the  shelter  of 
rocks  and  logs.  "  It  looks  squally,"  said  Sam 
Ryder. 

"  'Bout  time  fight  over !  "  said  Peter,  who  had 
been  hugging  the  ground  more  affectionately  than 
he  would  have  hugged  a  sweetheart. 

"  Tedious  as  shinning  a  greased  pole,"  remarked 
Jim  Fowler.  Matt  drew  a  long  breath  as  he  watch- 
fully glanced  along  his  musket. 


AFTER    VlCKSBUllG  AND  KNOXVILLE.   307 

Gradually  the  enemy's  fire  ceased.  The  artil- 
lery seemed  turned  in  another  direction. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  I  asked.  Peter  pointed 
towards  Orchard  Knob,  saying,  "  Big  fight ;  look ! " 

A  line  of  white  musket  smoke  was  seen  curling 
up  in  front  of  Orchard  Knob,  and  faint  sounds  of 
a  conflict  reached  our  ears.  The  white  smoke 
gradually  extended  right  and  left,  farther  and  far- 
ther, and  then  disappeared  from  our  sight. 

We  understood  something  of  its  import  then, 
and  later  learned  that  it  was  the  attack  of  Thomas 
on  the  enemy's  centre,  which  had  been  weakened 
by  their  attack  on  our  force. 

Thomas  had  swept  over  Missionary  Ridge,  cap- 
turing all  the  enemy's  positions,  and  Bragg  was  in 
ignominious  flight. 

Thomas's  soldiers  had,  in  their  enthusiasm,  car- 
ried the  heights  without  orders,  and  nothing  could 
stay  their  daring  assault.  Thus  in  battle  the  men 
often  took  their  positions  and  gained  successes 
which  their  generals  did  not  contemplate. 

The  men  who  were  in  the  valley  told  us  they 
had  seen  Hooker's  musketry  fire  on  Lookout  Moun- 
tain at  night  like  the  flashes  of  a  thousand  fu-e- 
flies,  without  hearing  a  sound,  and  across  the  round 
red  disk  of  the  moon  which  rose  over  Lookout 
Mountain  they  saw  phantom-like  armed  men 
marching. 

On  reconnoitring  in  direction  of  the  tunnel  we 
found  it  vacated  by  all  except  a  large  number  of  the 


308  TOM  CLIFTON. 

dead  and  wounded  of  both  armies.  That  night  we 
pursued  the  enemy,  and  the  next  morning  at  day- 
light continued  the  pursuit.  On  the  30th  we  had 
reached  Charleston.  The  weather  was  bitterly 
cold ;  and,  although  we  had  no  tents  or  proper  ra- 
tions, another  terrible  march  was  before  us. 

Burnside  was  shut  up  and  besieged  in  Knoxville, 
and  his  twelve  thousand  men  were  represented  as 
starving,  and  we  were  to  be  hurried  eighty  miles, 
by  forced  marches,  over  villanous  roads,  to  his  relief. 

For  some  time  Peter  had  not  been  well,  and  dur- 
ing this  march  broke  down.  The  assistant  sur- 
geon decided  that  he  was  threatened  with  fever. 
He  was  left  by  the  way  at  a  house  belonging  to  a 
little  hatchet-faced,  black-eyed  widow  named  Per- 
kles,  whose  husband,  a  rebel  soldier,  had  been 
killed  at  Chickamauga.  She  reluctantly  consented 
to  care  for  Peter,  and  we  unloaded  our  pockets  of 
greenbacks  to  pay  her  for  these  services.  She  said 
she  had  money  enough,  such  as  it  was,  and  showed 
us  a  basketful  of  rebel  scrip,  copies  of  which  are 
here  given. 

On  our  march  I  witnessed  one  of  those  scenes 
of  pillage  made  necessary  by  war,  the  harshness  of 
which  is  seemingly  lessened  by  terming  it  "  fora- 
ging," or  "  living  on  the  enemy."  The  head  of  our 
column  came  upon  a  country  house  with  its  barns, 
stables,  smoke-house,  stacks  of  fodder,  and  other 
evidences  of  thrift  and  abundance.  The  foraging 
officer  was  called  to  the  front  with  his  party  and 


AFTER    VICKSBURG  AND  KNOXVILLE.  309 

directed  to  take  the  wagons  available  for  their 
purpose,  and,  by  going  forward  at  a  rapid  pace, 
take  whatever  he  found  needful  for  the  army. 

A  full  regiment  accompanied  him  at  a  double 
quick  to  collect  food  and  transportation.  The 
place  proved  to  be  a  perfect  magazine  of  teams, 
grain,  meat,  fodder,  chickens,  and  cattle. 

This  was  gathered  so  dexterously  that,  on  the 
arrival  of  our  regiment,  the  new  supplies  fell  into 
line  and  moved  forward  without  a  halt  of  the  col- 
umn, receipts  having  already  been  given. 

The  distress  of  the  household  can  be  imagined. 
It  was  not  until  later  that  we  learned  that  this 
estate  belonged  to  the  parents  of  our  old  acquaint- 
ance and  friend,  General  Preston,  of  the  Confed- 
erate service. 

December  6,  after  a  terrible  march,  we  reached 
Marysville,  a  short  distance  from  Knoxville,  and 
here  found  that  Longstreet  had  raised  the  siege 
and  marched  away. 

Shortly  after  this  we  marched  back  to  Chatta- 
nooga, having  been  on  the  move  almost  constantly 
since  leaving  the  Big  Black  River  near  Vicksburg. 

The  men  were  now  destitute  of  proper  clothing ; 
were  barefoot;  all  were  tired  and  worn,  and  many 
were  heart-sick  with  hardships,  but  they  were 
proud  of  the  achievements  of  the  Fifteenth  Army 
Corps  and  its  old  commander,  General  Sherman. 


310  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

ON   VETERAN   FURLOUGH. 

We  returned  from  Memphis  to  Chattanooga  by 
the  same  route  by  which  we  went.  On  reaching 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Perkles,  where  we  had  left  Peter, 
we  found  him  still  weak  but  convalescing. 

The  little  hatchet-face  Southern  woman  and  the 
patient  were  apparently  on  excellent  terms.  When 
I  asked  him  if  he  felt  well  enough  to  return  to 
Chattanooga  with  us,  he  replied,  "  Yes,"  where- 
upon Mrs.  Perkles  gave  him  such  a  look  as,  to  use 
one  of  Sam  Ryder's  sea  phrases,  made  Peter  "  take 
back  water." 

We  were  invited  to  remain  to  dinner,  and  con- 
tributed coffee  and  bacon  as  our  part  of  the 
meal. 

When  Mrs.  Perkles  had  left  the  room  to  superin- 
tend the  cooking,  Peter  got  out  of  his  big  chair, 
and,  after  listening  at  the  door,  said  to  us,  "  Little 
woman  '  whirr '  when  I  say  go,"  and  then  made  an 
odd  gesture  with  his  hands  in  imitating  the  ex- 
cited flight  of  birds.  Just  then  the  little  woman 
came  into  the  room,  and  with  a  motion  of  her 
hands  seated  the  big  honest  fellow  in  his  chair, 


ON  VETERAN  FURLOUGH.  Sll 

and  tucked  the  blanket  around  him  as  if  he  Avere 
a  baby.  Peter  submitted,  though  it  seemed  to  us 
rather  sheepishly ;  and  by  these  symptoms  we  con- 
cluded that  he  was  under  petticoat  government. 

"  Captured !  "  said  Matt  in  an  aside :  "  we  have 
got  to  get  him  out  of  this,  or,  by  jimminy,  she'll 
marry  him  in  spite  of  himself." 

There  was  also  a  noticeable  change  in  the 
woman's  sentiments  regarding  the  Union  army. 
At  our  first  meeting  with  her  she  was  bitter  in  her 
expression  of  hate  towards  them,  and  now  we 
heard  but  little  of  her  dislike  for  "  Yanks." 

Once  when  she  used  the  expression  "  Yanks," 
Peter  looked  at  her  with  such  an  angry  command- 
ing air  that,  to  use  Jim  Fowler's  expression,  "  she 
wilted."  When  we  said  that  we  hardly  dared  to 
leave  Peter  at  her  house  for  fear  of  guerillas,  she 
straightened  herself  up,  and  her  eyes  snapped  as 
she  said,  "  I  reckon  not,  stranger  ;  they  won't  gob- 
ble him  while  I'm  hyre  !  " 

I  wish  I  could  reproduce  the  inflections  of  her 
voice,  and  the  idiom  peculiar  to  Tennessee  with 
which  she  spoke,  for  it  meant  determination  and 
fight  in  such  an  emergency  as  a  guerilla  attack. 

On  reaching  Chattanooga  we  went  into  com- 
fortable camps  once  more,  and  entered  upon  a 
much-needed  season  of  recuperation  and  rest. 

About  three  weeks  after  this  Peter  made  his 
appearance,  looking  much  improved,  and  I  could 
see  that  he  was  glad  to  be  with  us  once  more. 


S12  TOM  CUPTOK. 

Not  long  after  this  we  saw  a  queer  little  figure 
in  poke  bonnet  and  straight  skirts  coming  across 
the  parade  ground. 

"By  all  the  powers!"  said  Matt,  "but  here 
comes  Madam  Perkles."  Peter  gave  one  look,  and 
then  sat  down  as  if  shot. 

Meanwhile  the  madam  came  slowly  down  the 
company  street,  occasionally  speakiug  to  the  sol- 
diers who  stood  about,  until  at  last,  when  opposite 
our  tent,  she  paused,  and  in  her  high-pitched 
drawling,  Southern  accent  called  out,  "  Peter ! 
Peter!" 

Looking  a  trifle  sheepish,  Peter  went  out  and 
greeted  her. 

The  little  woman's  face  showed  signs  of  break- 
ing up  into  a  smile  as  she  said,  "  Howdy,"  and  took 
hold  of  one  of  the  buttons  of  Peter's  coat,  and,  smil- 
ing, said,  "  Yer  look  right  peart,  Mr.  Roy.  What 
ar'  yer  such  a  plumb  fool  as  ter  come  hyre  and 
live  in  cloth  houses  fer?  Yer  ar'  a  right  smart 
sick  man,  FU  'low." 

Just  then  the  colonel  came  along,  and,  speaking 
to  Peter,  said,  "  Sergeant,  who  is  this  woman  ?  " 

Sergeant  Roy  saluted,  and  with  a  rough  but 
grave  courtesy  introduced  the  widow. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  the  sergeant?  "  said  the 
colonel  with  a  twinkle  of  amusement  in  his  eye. 
Then,  as  no  answer  was  made  and  the  little  woman 
still  clung  to  one  of  Peter's  buttons,  the  colonel 
added,  "  Do  you  want  to  marry  him  ?  " 


"  Sergeant  Roy  has  something  to  do  besides  marrying,  madam!  " 
—  Page  313. 


ON   VETERAN  FURLOUGH.  313 

Mrs.  Perkles  hid  her  face  in  the  depths  of  her 
poke  bonnet  and  made  no  answer.  But  the  col- 
onel, as  if  taking  silence  for  consent,  said,  — 

"Sergeant  Roy  has  something  to  do  besides 
marrying,  madam ! "  and  with  a  smile  of  amuse- 
ment in  his  eyes,  turned  away. 

After  this  we  saw  Mrs.  Perkles  in  camp  occasion- 
ally talking  to  Peter,  and  once  or  twice  he  brought 
in  a  chicken,  saying,  "  Little  madam  bring  some- 
thin'  to  eat !  " 

During  the  spring  and  winter  of  1864,  the  gov- 
ernment offered  a  bounty  of  one  thousand  dollars 
and  a  thirty  days'  furlough  to  such  of  our  num- 
ber as  would  re-enlist  in  the  service  of  the  United 
States  for  another  three  years,  unless  sooner  dis- 
charged. This  proposition  for  a  time  engrossed 
our  attention,  and  was  discussed  by  the  members 
of  our  regiment.  Most  of  us  agreed  with  Jim 
Fowler  in  regard  to  the  war,  who  said,  "  I  think 
we're  bound  to  see  the  thing  through,  or  be  killed 
for  it." 

"  I  wonder,"  queried  Sam  Ryder,  "  how  many  of 
us  will  squeak  out  alive  if  we  re-enlist?" 

"  Got  die  sometime ;  die  fighting  good  'nuff," 
was  Peter's  philosophical  remark. 

"  Our  time  is  nearly  out,"  said  Matt.  "  We  can 
go  home  soon  and  re-enlist  in  a  new  regiment  and 
get  commissions." 

In  this  remark  Matt  had  touched  a  sore  spot, 
for  promotion  had  been  slow  among  us,  as  inexpe- 


314  TOM  CLIFTON. 

rienced  men  from  civil  life  had  been  commissioned, 
leaving  the  veterans,  privates  and  non-commis- 
sioned, in  their  old  positions. 

Our  attachment  to  our  regiment  was,  however, 
so  strong  that  we  finally  agreed  that  we  would 
rather  stay  with  it  than  to  go  into  any  other,  not- 
withstanding the  injustice  complained  of. 

In  March  we  "  veteranized,"  and  were  soon  on 
our  way  home. 

At  St.  Paul  we  stopped  at  my  Uncle  John's 
over  night.  He  had  been  an  officer  in  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  (brevet  brigadier-general),  but, 
being  desperately  wounded  in  the  fight  at  Get- 
tysburg, had  resigned  and  returned  to  his  home. 

He  was  very  proud  of  his  military  record,  and 
had  a  good  deal  to  say  about  the  superiority  of 
the  "  Army  of  the  Potomac  "  over  our  Western 
armies.  Matt  didn't  relish  this,  and  sharply  said, 
"  It  seems  to  me.  General,  that  the  difference  be- 
tween our  Western  armies  and  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  is,  that  we  usually  whip  the  rebels,  while 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  let  the  rebels  whip 
them." 

At  this  home  thrust  my  uncle,  after  uttering 
"  Humph,"  gave  very  close  attention  to  his  cigar. 

All  three  of  us,  Matt,  Peter,  and  I,  had  the 
money  for  our  veteran  bounties  with  us,  as  well  as 
quite  a  large  amount  of  our  back  pay.  My  uncle, 
on  learning  of  this,  advised  us  to  invest  our  money 
in  Minneapolis  land. 


ON  VETERAN  FURLOUGH.  315 

"  I  thought,  Uncle  Jack,"  said  I,  "  that  a  St. 
Paul  man  never  recommended  anything  in  Minne- 
apolis ;  and  I've  heard  that  the  people  of  Minneap- 
olis won't  allow  their  ministers  to  take  their  texts 
from  St.  Paul." 

My  uncle  laughed  and  replied,  "  Money  matters 
and  sentiment  are  two  different  things.  This  is 
a  matter  of  business,  and  I  tell  you  Minneapolis 
is  going  to  hum  with  business  one  of  these  days. 
The  milling  interest  is  going  to  boom  it.  They've 
got  a  lot  of  hustlers  over  there  that  ain't  going  to 
see  things  go  down.  There's  that  Washburne  fel- 
ler you  met  when  you  first  came  here ;  he's  a 
booming  it  for  all  it's  worth!" 

The  next  day  we  went  over  to  Minneapolis  to 
take  the  boat  at  St.  Anthony,  and  while  there  with 
my  uncle  bargained  for  some  land.  Peter  was 
rather  indifferent  about  speculation,  but  put  part 
of  his  money  into  land.  Uncle  Jack  expressed 
his  satisfaction  by  saying,  "  Hold  on  to  that  land, 
boys,  and  you'll  never  die  in  the  poor-house." 

At  last  we  arrived  at  our  own  familiar  landing, 
and  saw  my  father  with  a  double  wagon,  waiting 
in  anticipation  of  our  coming.  Garrison,  like  a 
true  abolitionist,  barked  at  us  furiously  until  he 
understood  who  we  were ;  then  his  barks  were 
changed  to  whines  of  delight. 

My  father  was  somewhat  bent  and  had  visibly 
aged  since  we  last  saw  him,  but  was  in  good 
health, 


316  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Your  hair  has  grown  very  white,  father,"  I 
said. 

"  Yes,  Tom,"  he  replied.  "  I'm  not  sure  but  I 
have  suffered  more  from  anxiety  than  you  have 
from  hardships  and  wounds.  You  look  vigorous ; 
your  wounds  do  not  pain  you  now,  do  they?" 
looking  into  my  face  with  inexpressible  pride  and 
solicitude. 

"No,"  I  replied,  placing  my  hand  on  his  arm 
as  I  rode  by  his  side. 

My  aunt  and  Bess  came  out  to  greet  us  as  we 
reached  the  dear  home. 

"  Dear  suz  !  What  a  great  hulkin'  feller  you've 
got  ter  be,  Tom  !  I  declar' !  a  freak  o'  natur' ! " 
exclaimed  Aunt  Hitty,  walking  around  me  and 
taking  hugs  and  pinches  of  snuff.  Our  greeting 
was  as  warm  as  any  home-coming  in  the  land. 
Matt  went  off  to  see  his  mother,  but  Peter  tarried 
with  us.  My  sister  Bess  had  grown  taller  and  very 
queenly  and  sedate,  but  the  expression  on  her 
beautiful  face  showed  that  the  war  had  left  traces 
of  sadness  there. 

That  night  we  sat  late  around  the  table,  talking 
over  the  occurrences  of  the  months  since  we  had 
met. 

"  Who  do  you  think  has  bought  a  farm  and  is 
going  to  settle  here  ?  "  asked  my  father. 

"  Uriah  Johnson.  He  has  resigned  his  commis- 
sion and  will  settle  down  to  the  pursuits  of  peace," 
said  Bess  in  imitation  of  Uriah's  tone. 


ON  VETERAN  FURLOUGH.  317 

Among  the  persons  in  my  father's  household 
was  an  Indian  girl  about  eighteen  years  old.  She 
was  the  same  girl  whom  my  aunt  had  decorated 
with  ribbons  wlien  we  first  settled  here,  and  was 
the  messenger  who  came  to  the  settlement  to  warn 
the  settlers  of  the  Indian  uprising  in  the  north-west 
during  the  fall  of  1862.  My  father,  however,  attrib- 
uted the  immunity  of  the  settlers  from  attack  to 
the  fact  that  he  and  all  of  the  dwellers  in  Lake- 
view  had  always  treated  the  red  men  with  exact 
justice. 

The  next  morning  we  viewed  the  farm  improve- 
ments, and  then  went  to  call  on  Mrs.  Ryan.  I 
never  saw  her  looking  younger  or  stronger.  She 
had  managed  the  farm  well,  and  had  improved  it 
very  much  with  hired  help,  but  had  not  succeeded 
in  ejecting  the  people  who  had  "jumped  "a  por- 
tion of  Matt's  and  Peter's  claims  (about  fifty  acres 
of  each). 

During  the  month  we  were  at  home  we  succeeded 
in  ejecting  the  squatters  ;  but  as  they  had  built  a 
very  good  house  on  the  land,  Peter  bought  that  at 
a  good  price,  at  which  they  expressed  great  satis- 
faction. 

Peter  also  gave  them  liberty  to  live  in  the  house 
until  they  could  get  settled  elsewhere. 

My  father  expressed  surprise  that  Peter  should 
exhibit  so  much  interest  in  his  farm ;  but  he  did 
not  know,  as  we  did,  of  Mrs.  Perkles. 

There  was  considerable  curiosity  exhibited  by 


318  TOM  CLIFTON. 

our  settlers  to  learn  of  the  war  at  first  hand.  Sam 
Ryder  was  kept  pretty  busy  telling  war  stories ; 
but  I  am  afraid  he  did  not  always  subordinate  his 
sense  of  fun  to  his  consideration  for  truth,  for  he 
afterwards  said,  "  The  folks  ter  home  have  got  the 
awfullest  hunger  fer  lies  of  any  folks  I  ever  talked 
to  !  They'll  swaller  anything  big  in  the  shape  of 
a  war  yarn." 

When  Mrs.  Ryan  had  been  shown  a  pencil  sketch 
I  had  made  of  Michael  Ryan,  alias  Patrick  Pike, 
she  astonished  us  by  declaring  that  the  face  was 
familiar  to  her,  but  she  could  not  remember  where 
she  had  seen  it  before.  "•  It  looks  like  your  grand- 
father," she  said  to  Matt. 

The  day  for  our  departure  and  leave-taking  at 
last  came.  "  It  seems,"  said  my  father,  "  as  if  the 
only  thing  that  reconciles  me  to  your  leaving  home 
again  is  that  it  is  your  duty  and  my  belief  that 
you  are  more  in  God's  care  when  in  the  per- 
formance of  your  duty  than  if  you  were  at  home 
avoiding  it." 

The  last  of  May,  when  we  had  reached  Chatta- 
nooga, we  found  that  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee 
had  gone.  General  Sherman  had  originally 
planned  to  await  the  return  of  his  furloughed 
veterans  before  starting  out  on  the  Atlanta  cam- 
paign; but,  as  General  Grant  had  designated 
May  5  as  the  time  for  beginning  his  movement 
on  the  enemy,  he  had  not  been  able  to  wait  for 
them. 


ON   VETERAN  FURLOUGH.  319 

We  were  therefore  sent  forward  by  easy  stages, 
doing  guard  duty  here  and  there  along  the  route, 
and  so  did  not  rejoin  our  command  until  several 
battles  and  skirmishes  of  the  Atlanta  campaign  had 
been  fought. 


320  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

THE   ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN. 

On  the  18th  of  March  General  Grant  had 
turned  over  to  General  Sherman  the  command 
of  the  Western  armies,  while  he  went  to  Wash- 
ington at  the  request  of  the  President,  to  assume 
the  general  direction  of  all  the  armies  in  the  field. 

General  Sherman,  as  we  have  said,  had  not  found 
it  convenient  to  await  the  return  of  his  veterans 
who  liad  received  furloughs,  and  on  the  5th  of 
May  had  set  out  on  his  Atlanta  campaign. 

The  force  for  the  execution  of  his  task,  at  the 
opening  of  the  campaign,  was  98,976  men,  con- 
sisting of  the  armies  of  the  Tennessee,  the  Cum- 
berland, and  the  Ohio. 

The  Confederates,  meanwhile,  had  an  army  much 
inferior  in  numbers,  under  General  Joseph  E. 
Johnston,  consisting  of  45,000  men,  but  with  the 
compensating  advantage  of  operating  on  interior 
lines,  in  their  own  country,  where  its  inhabitants 
were  their  guides  and  spies,  and  which  was  also 
made  easy  of  defence  by  its  rivers,  rocks,  ravines, 
woods,  and  mountains. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  Sherman  advanced  into 


THE  ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN.  321 

the  enemy's  country,  he  was  constantly  obliged  to 
diminish  his  original  force  for  guards,  at  all  im- 
portant points,  while  the  enemy  received  a  corre- 
sponding accession  of  force  by  picking  up  his 
detachments  and  guards,  rendered  needless  as 
he  fell  back  nearer  his  base  of  supplies. 

He  also  had  railroads  opened  in  his  rear,  by 
which  he  received  re-enforcements  and  supplies. 
Added  to  this  was  the  zeal  of  a  blind,  unreason- 
ing energy  which  is  infused  into  a  warlike  peo- 
ple when  an  invading  army  penetrates  their 
countr3^ 

As  the  territory  over  which  Sherman  advanced 
was  easily  defended,  he  marched  from  his  base  at 
Chattanooga  to  make  a  feint  or  threaten  his  ad- 
versary's front,  while  he  made  his  real  attack  at 
Resaca,  eighteen  miles  in  the  enemy's  rear. 

This  movement  compelled  General  Johnston  to 
abandon  Walton  and  fight  at  Resaca,  where  we 
lost  2,789  men  in  battle.  From  thence  the  enemy 
fell  back  to  Allatoona. 

After  repairing  his  railroads,  Sherman,  knowing 
the  strength  of  Johnston's  position,  attempted  to 
flank  it,  and  get  to  Atlanta  by  way  of  Dallas ;  but 
Johnston  was  soon  aware  of  the  movement,  and  com- 
pelled our  army,  on  the  25th  and  28th  of  May,  to 
fight  at  Hope  Church  and  Pickett's  Mills,  in  which 
engagement  the  enemy,  though  defeated,  inflicted 
heavy  loss  on  our  army,  and  fell  back  to  Marietta, 
with  Brush  Mountain  on  his  right,  Kenesaw  on 


322  TOM  CLIFTON. 

his  centre,  and  Lost  Mountain  on  his  left.  There, 
finding  his  lines  too  extended,  he  shortened  them 
by  concentrating  at  Kenesaw. 

Such  was  the  situation  on  our  arrival. 

Various  causes  had  delayed  our  arrival  at  the 
front ;  and  by  reference  to  my  note-book  I  find 
that  we  reported  for  duty  in  the  field  at  Big 
Shanty,  Georgia,  on  June  16,  1864. 

At  that  time  the  fighting  along  the  line  was 
incessant,  for  the  Union  army  had  closed  down  on 
the  enemy's  strong  position  in  battle  array,  repair- 
ing the  railroads  to  their  very  camps ;  the  skir- 
mishers were  in  actual  contact,  and  our  batteries 
and  line  of  battle  but  little  in  rear  of  them. 

From  the  time  of  our  leaving  Chattanooga  the 
weather  was  extremely  uncomfortable,  in  that  it 
rained  most  of  the  time.  I  find  in  going  over  my 
note-book  that  we  had  over  twenty  days  of  rain, 
with  but  little  intermission  during  that  time. 

On  the  19th  we  went  on  picket-duty  in  the  rain, 
and  shortly  afterwards  discovered  that  the  Confed- 
erates had  evacuated  their  first  line  of  works,  and 
had  fallen  back  to  the  mountain. 

Our  regiment,  thinned  by  disease  and  the  cas- 
ualties of  battle,  at  that  time  numbered  only  three 
hundred  men,  and  was  commanded  by  a  senior 
captain,  a  man  of  great  courage,  who  was  a  ser- 
geant when  I  entered  the  regiment.  He  was 
formerly  a  railroad  engineer,  and  believed  in  fight- 
ing rather  than  in  marching  or  in  manoeuvres;  for, 


THE  ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN.  323 

as  Matt  said,  fighting  was  something  he  could 
thoroughly  understand. 

As  the  enemy  fell  back  we  followed  him  up,  and 
intrenched ;  but  our  work  did  not  seem  to  be  of 
much  use  against  a  plunging  artillery  fire  from 
the  higher  land,  to  which  we  were  subjected,  and 
against  which  our  intrenchments  seemed  but  little 
protection. 

"Worse  Vicksburg!"  was  Peter's  exclamation, 
which  indicated  that  he  was  not  entirely  satisfied 
with  the  situation. 

"  It  rains  all  the  time  in  this  doo-g-oned  coun- 
try ! "  said  Jim  Fowler,  shaking  himself  like  a 
Newfoundland  dog  just  come  out  of  the  water. 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt,  "  chunks  of  cast-iron,  lead, 
and  water."  And  just  as  he  was  saying  it  a  shell 
exploded  in  on.r  rifle-pit,  killing  the  only  man 
lying  down  under  shelter  of  the  embankment. 

Nothing  further  of  importance  occurred,  except 
the  constant  firing,  until  Saturday  the  25th,  when, 
in  the  afternoon,  just  as  we  were  expecting  a  little 
quiet  (for  the  enemy  had  "  slowed  up,"  as  the  cap- 
tain said),  we  were  moved  to  the  right  about  five 
miles,  to  the  southern  point  of  Little  Kenesaw 
Mountain.  Here  we  made  ourselves  as  comforta- 
ble as  possible ;  and,  after  a  soldier's  breakfast,  the 
captain  commanding  came  down  the  line,  saying, 
"  Boys,  we  are  going  for  'em,  right  up  there  ! "  point- 
ing at  the  same  time  towards  the  mountain.  See- 
ing, possibly,  the  gloom  or  doubt  in  the  faces  of  the 


324  TOM  CLIFTON. 

men,  lie  continued,  "It's  the  only  thing  that  will 
make  them  sick ;  that  will  restore  the  Union, 
—  keep  giving  them  the  best  we've  got  in  the 
tender ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jim  Fowler,  "  fire  up  !  "  and  the 
boys  caught  the  expression,  and  shouted  along 
the  line,  "  Fire  up ! "  and  this  did  not  seem  to 
displease  our  officer,  for  something  like  a  grim 
smile  spread  over  his  face,  like  cracks  radiating 
from  a  shattered  window-pane  ! 

Skirmishers  were  at  once  thrown  out  beyond 
our  intrenchments,  and  our  line  of  battle  formed 
about  a  hundred  feet  behind  the  line,  which  was 
soon  engaged  with  the  enem3\ 

Then  the  order  came,  "  Forward !   Guide  right !  " 

The  enemy's  position  was  yellow  with  earth- 
works, on  a  ridge  to  the  right  of  the  mountain. 

One  of  our  brigades  entered  the  ravine  between 
the  mountains,  to  overlap  the  left  of  the  hill, 
while  our  brigade,  together  with  the  fourth,  moved 
towards  the  enemy's  intrenchments  on  this  ridge. 

We  knew,  however,  but  little  of  the  nature  of 
this  ground,  though  we  had  seen  their  position 
over  the  tops  of  the  trees,  from  a  high  point  in  the 
rear  of  our  line. 

We  went  forward,  picking  our  way  over  a  low, 
swampy  thicket,  and  all  the  while  the  incessant 
crack  !  crack  !  crack  !  of  our  skirmishers,  with  those 
of  the  enemy,  went  on  before  us. 

We   now  began   to  come   upon  the  dead  and 


THE  ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN.  325 

■wounded  of  this  prelude  to  the  fiercer  conflict  yet 
to  come. 

Our  advance  was  impeded  by  swampy  land,  in 
which  we  mired  knee-deep,  and  also  by  a  dense 
thicket,  where  the  wild-rose  vines  and  other 
entanglements  were  so  diificult  that  we  were 
often  obliged  to  crawl  on  our  hands  and  knees, 
or  move  in  a  stooping  attitude,  to  get  through. 

These  obstructions  were  finally  overcome  ;  and 
at  last  we  succeeded,  with  scratched  hands  and 
faces,  and  wet  and  muddy  feet,  in  getting  on  the 
open  ground  in  front  of  the  enemy  on  the  hill. 

"  There's  their  roost  up  there ! "  shouted  the 
captain  commanding,  as  he  looked  along  the  line 
of  his  brave,  bronzed  veterans. 

"  Does  he  expect  us,"  said  Jim  Fowler,  "  to 
bunt  our  heads  against  those  rocks,  Sergeant 
Matt?" 

There  was  not  a  man  in  line  but  knew  that 
the  task  before  him  was  next  to  impossible  of 
accomplishment,  or  a  terrible  one  at  best.  Yet 
veteran  soldiers  obey.  They  do  not  argue,  except 
in  reluctant  acts ;  and  they  often  attempt  the 
impossible  in  the  face  of  certain  death,  because 
they  understand  the  importance  of  obedience. 
They  learn  by  constant  examples  that  those  who 
serve  must  often  die  unhonored  or  unknown,  to 
give  a  final  victory  to  their  country's  cause. 

The  hill  before  us  was  steep  and  rugged,  covered 
with  fallen  trees,  precipitous  rocks,  and  abatis,  thus 


326  TOM  CLIFTON. 

rendering  our  advance  in  line  of  battle  next  to 
impossible. 

We  could  see,  a  little  below  the  crest  of  the 
hill,  the  rebel  earthworks  crowded  with  men. 

Their  guns  commanded  the  whole  sloj)e,  and 
from  the  nature  of  the  ground  they  were  able  to 
pour  into  our  advancing  column  a  deadly  flanking 
fire  that  no  troops  could  withstand. 

There  was  scarcely  time  for  alignment ;  no  time 
to  wait;  for  the  shot  were  striking  our  ranks,  and 
we  must  go  forward,  for  it  was  not  our  habit  to 
fall  back  from  dangerous  positions. 

"  Forward  !  Drive  them  out  of  that  roost, 
boys !  "  shouted  our  commanding  officer,  as,  dis- 
daining to  take  his  place  in  the  rear,  he  marched 
at  the  front  of  the  line,  up  the  hill. 

With  a  shout  of  defiance,  which  was  answered 
by  an  angry  yell  from  the  enemy  on  the  hill,  our 
men  went  on.  I  remember  that  the  line  of  men 
bent  their  heads  as  they  advanced,  as  if  against 
the  storm  of  lead  that  swept  the  ground. 

All  in  vain  their  valor !  The  line  was  soon 
more  like  a  skirmish  line  broken  into  fragments 
than  a  line  of  battle.  Yet  we  went  on,  steadily 
climbing  up;  sheltering  ourselves  behind  rocks 
and  fallen  trees,  from  their  deadly  cross-fire,  before 
which  our  men  fell  fast. 

The  captain  commanding,  and  some  sixty  men, 
including  Matt,  Peter,  Jim  Fowler,  Sam  Ryder, 
and  myself,  had,  for  a  while,  sheltered  ourselves 


THE  ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN.  327 

in  a  shallow  ravine,  just  in  front  of  the  rebel 
works. 

Two  of  our  men  were  killed  here,  and  several 
wounded. 

"Catch  your  breath,  men,  and  then  shoot  at 
every  head  you  see !  "  exclaimed  our  captain 
grimly,  while  his  rugged  eyebrows  met  in  a  scowl 
of  rage  at  the  continued  loss  of  his  brave  men. 

Just  a  breath  or  two,  and  then  the  captain 
exclaimed,  "  Forward  in  line !  Drive  them  out 
of  that  roost,  boys  !  "  and  we  dashed  over  the 
intervening  space,  followed  by  some  two  hundred 
men. 

A  perfect  Babel  of  sounds  succeeded  :  shouts, 
shots,  imprecations  of  rage,  yells  of  pain,  groans. 
It  was  a  whirlwind  meeting  the  rocks ! 

The  captain  had  mounted  the  rebel  parapet,  fol- 
lowed by  several  of  his  devoted  men,  and  then  we 
saw  him  fall  dead  on  the  outer  slope,  with  our  men 
leaping  the  works,  and  yet  the  rebel  flag  was 
waving,  and  the  rebels  still  held  the  line. 

We  had  met  with  a  bloody  repulse  !  Our  cap- 
tain and  the  lieutenant  of  our  company  were 
wounded  at  the  ravine,  and  I  was  in  command. 

"  No  use  try  again ! "  said  Peter,  a«  if  under- 
standing my  thoughts. 

The  brave  fellow  had  brought  away  a  stand  of 
colors  during  the  encounter,  and  yet  had  not  re- 
ceived a  scratch. 

The  remainder  of  our  men  fell  back  from  rock 


328  TOM  CLIFTON. 

to  rock  while  keeping  up  a  steady  fire  on  the  rebels, 
until  they  reached  the  ravine,  where,  sore,  angry, 
and  sullen,  they  remained,  firing  on  the  exultant 
foe  until  darkness  came.  Then  we  got  back  to 
the  intrenchments  from  which  we  had  advanced  in 
the  morning. 

Our  regiment's  loss  in  this  encounter  was  two 
captains  and  twenty  enlisted  men  killed,  one  cap- 
tain, two  lieutenants,  and  thirty  men  wounded,  and 
.  ten  made  prisoners. 

When  men  are  killed  in  storming  an  intrenched 
position  with  an  inadequate  force,  when  that  posi- 
tion could  have  been  turned,  it  is  little  short  of 
murder. 

When  I  remember  the  brave  boys  who  were 
shot  down,  or  were  made  prisoners  (among  the 
latter,  Jim  Fowler  and  Sam  Ryder)  at  Kenesaw 
Mountain,  it  makes  me  angry,  because  after-occur- 
rences showed  it  to  have  been  needless. 

Althouofh  General  Sherman  tried  afterwards  to 
justify  himself  for  this  assault,  he  never  did  it 
to  the  satisfaction  of  those  who  fought  in  the 
front  line  at  Kenesaw  Mountain. 

The  following  from  my  note-book  will  give  a 
faint  idea  of  how  lively  General  Sherman  made  us 
move  in  the  weeks  following  the  occurrences  I 
have  just  narrated  :  — 

"  July  2.  Marched  eight  miles  to  support  Gen- 
eral Schofield. 

"  July  3.      Skirmished   with   the  enemy,  losing 


THE  ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN.  329 

two  men,  driving  their  cavalry  two  miles  across 
the  Little  Sweet  Water. 

As  we  went  into  camp  that  night,  near  a  large 
Southern  house,  I  was  attracted  to  a  group  of  our 
men  gathered  around  an  apple-tree. 

"  This  fellow  here,"  said  Matt  Ryan,  calling  out 
to  me,  "  has  been  doing  something  wrong.  The 
rebs  haven't  hung  him  to  a  sour  apple-tree  for 
nothing." 

"  What  fellow  ?  " 

Matt  drew  nearer  to  the  tree,  and  pointed  to  a 
man  hanging  by  the  neck  from  a  limb. 

Peter  looked  at  the  body,  removed  the  slouch 
hat  from  over  the  face,  but  made  no  remark  as  he 
looked  at  me  and  gestured  with  one  hand  toward 
the  unfortunate  spy,  Wild  dog  or  Spring. 

Pinned  to  the  breast  was  a  placard  which  read, 
"  A  traitor  to  the  Confederacy." 

Later,  several  mounted  officers  came  up.  I 
heard  one,  whom  I  recognized  as  Colonel  Tuttle, 
say,  "  So  they  caught  him  at  last !  " 

"  Cauo^ht  who  ?  "  said  another.     "  What  does  it 


mean 


? 


"  This  scoundrel,"  said  Tuttle,  "  is  the  one  we 
court-martialled  at  Vicksburg.  He  would  have 
been  shot  in  another  hour  if  he  had  not  scribbled 
a  few  words  saying  he  had  important  information 
for  our  commanding  general.  When  he  was  con- 
ducted to  General  Grant,  he  coolly  offered  to 
betray  the  correspondence  of  Johnston  and  Pem- 
berton  if  he  would  let  him  go." 


330  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Yes  ;  and  it  was  current  talk  among  the  gen- 
eral officers  that  this  man  was  paid  large  sums  of 
money  for  the  information  he  brought  into  our 
lines.  It  was  said  that  is  how  Grant  kept  so  well 
posted  as  to  what  was  going  on  in  Vicksburg." 

"  He  betrayed  both  sides  probably?  " 

"  No  ;  he  betrayed  the  one  that  paid  the  least." 

The  next  morning,  when  we  marched  away,  the 
spy  was  still  swaying  in  the  wind. 

Singular  to  relate  (for  it  is  shigular  that  so  mor- 
bid a  passion  should  exist  in  the  hearts  of  brave 
men),  his  clothing  had  been  mostly  cut  away  for 
mementos. 

"  Ugh !  He  bow  to  me !  "  said  Peter  with  a 
superstitious  shudder,  as  we  marched  on  once 
more. 

"  July  4.  Supported  the  Sixteenth  Army  Corps 
in  the  advance.  ' 

"  July  5.     Remained  in  reserve. 

"  July  8.     Moved  to  Nickajack  Creek. 

"  July  9.     Intrenched. 

"  July  11.  Marched  to  Sweet  Water  Creek  to 
cover  flank  of  the  army. 

"  July  12.  Moved  eight  miles  to  the  left,  pass- 
ing through  Martinsville  at  daybreak  on  the  13th, 
thence  eighteen  miles  to  Roswell. 

"  July  14.  Crossed  the  Chattahoochee  River 
and  intrenched. 

"  July  15.  Advanced  six  miles  to  Nancy's 
Creek. 


THE  ATLANTA    CAMPAIGN.  331 

"  July  18.  Marched  five  miles  towards  Stone 
Mountain. 

"July  19.  Tore  up  the  track  of  the  Augusta 
railroad,  then  marched  to  Decatur,  seven  miles  more. 

"  July  20.  Moved  three  miles  along  the  railroad 
and  intrenched  at  night. 

"July  22.  The  regiment  has  advanced  half  a 
mile,  captured  some  rebel  intrenchments,  and  is 
now,  at  two  p.m.,  engaged  in  remodelling  them." 

I  find  no  memorandum  after  this  for  several 
days,  for  reasons  which  will  presently  be  seen. 

At  shortly  after  two  o'clock  the  enemy  appeared 
in  our  front,  and  certain  indications  showed  that 
they  intended  to  assault  our  position. 

At  about  three  o'clock  p.m.  the  enemy  came 
on  in  one  dense  column,  which  seemed  to  outnum- 
ber our  force  three  to  one.  Our  regiment  was 
flanked  on  the  left,  and  this  compelled  the  larger 
portion  of  our  men  to  fall  back,  leaving  some 
twenty  men,  including  Matt  and  myself,  with  the 
colors  (which  Peter  carried)  cut  off  from  the  main 
line. 

Our  forces  had  been  so  persistently  set  to  the  front 
during  the  advance  of  the  enemy,  that  we  did  not 
notice  when  the  line  gave  way  on  both  right  and 
left,  in  season  to  fall  back  with  it.  We  soon  found 
ourselves  in  such  an  exposed  position  that  we  could 
not  retreat.  As  Matt  said,  "  The  Rebs  had  us 
under  the  supervision  of  their  rifles  entirely." 

Every  time  we  raised  our  heads  above  a  slight 


332  TOM  CLIFTON. 

baiTicade  we  had  erected  on  our  right  and  left, 
'•'•'ping^''  '•'•ping"  hummed  the  bullets  in  remon- 
strance. We  were  at  first  too  proud  to  surrender 
and  in  too  tight  a  place  to  run. 

If  there  is  anything  that  sends  a  man's  courage 
down  to  zero,  it  is  to  be  caught  under  a  galling 
fire,  when  the  utmost  ingenuity  fails  to  discern  an 
opportunity  to  back  out. 

Twice  the  enemy  rushed  upon  us  and  were 
driven  back,  leaving  their  dead  and  wounded 
around  our  breastwork.  We  heard  the  shouts  of 
our  men  meanwhile,  cheering  as  if  charging  the 
rebels,  which  encouraged  us  to  hold  out. 

Peter  soon  after  took  the  flag  from  the  staff, 
tore  it  into  twenty  pieces,  and  distributed  it  among 
the  men.  "  That  shows  Avhat  Peter  thinks,"  says 
Matt.  "  What  shall  we  do  ?"  Just  then,  as  if  in 
answer  to  the  interrogation,  the  enemy  came  upon 
us  in  such  numbers  that  we  surrendered  and  were 
sent  to  the  rear. 


«/iV  THE  HANDS   OF  THE  ENEMY."      333 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

"IN    THE    HANDS    OF    THE    ENEMY." 

After  being  captured  we  exchanged  the  usual 
joke  and  chaff,  which  in  ordinary  intercourse 
amongf  men  mio-]it  be  called  insults. 

"  We  uns  ar'  a-lickin'  you  uns  a  right  smart 
ter-day  !  "  said  one  of  them. 

"  Look  here,  Reb !  I  don't  believe  it's  going 
to  be  much  of  a  shower  after  all,"  replied  Matt 
humorously.  "  You've  got  lots  to  do  to  lick  our 
uncle  Billy  Sherman." 

"  We  uns  have  killed  you  uns  biggest  general 
right  out  yer,"  pointing  to  the  woods  on  our  right. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  What  general  is  it  they've  killed  ?  " 
I  inquired,  somewhat  startled.  An  officer  here 
replied,  "  General  McPherson ;  he  was  killed  in 
those  woods  there." 

I  did  not  believe  this  intelligence  then,  bnt  learned 
later  that  it  was  true.  The  Union  Army  and  the 
Army  of  the  Tennessee,  which  he  commanded  at 
the  time  of  his  death,  had  lost  that  great  and  noble 
man,  whose  patriotism  and  skill,  fearless  courage 
and  kind  heart,  endeared  him  to  all  who  knew 
him.     There  was,  I  afterwards  learned,  mourning 


334  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ill  the  hearts  of  the  humblest  of  our  army ;  for  by 
his  many  manly  qualities  he  had  endeared  himself 
to  them  all. 

"  What's  that  cheering  ?  "  we  inquired  of  the 
same  officer. 

"  Your  people  have  driven  our  men  back,  I  am 
afraid,"  said  a  young  soldier  near. 

The  weather  was  exceedingly  hot,  and  the 
exciting  campaign  we  had  passed  through  since 
starting  out  from  Chattanooga,  with  its  attendant 
hardships,  had  left  me  depressed  mentally,  and 
physically  much  worn  out.  I  was  also  chafing 
with  great  impatience  since  being  made  a  prisoner, 
for  I  had  just  been  commissioned  as  first  lieuten- 
ant, a  place  I  had  been  acting  in  for  some  time 
since  the  fight  at  Kenesaw  Mountain. 

Our  men  were  all  much  in  the  same  condition 
of  depression ;  for  terrible  stories  had  been  told  to 
us  by  prisoners  who  had  reached  our  lines  the 
week  previous,  after  escaping  from  "  Anderson- 
ville  Prison." 

We  were  now  marched  to  the  rear  and  placed 
under  a  new  guard.  Something  of  gloom  must  have 
appeared  in  our  faces,  for  the  young  and  hand- 
some sergeant  of  the  guard  said,  "  It  is  the  for- 
tune of  war;  I'm  sure  it's  not  your  fault!  "  The 
tone  and  the  words  were  sympathetic. 

I  learned  by  conversation  with  him  that  he  was 
a  Georgian,  and  that  the  regiment  he  belonged  to 
was  from  that  State.     A  fine  body  of  men,  much 


"IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY."      335 

above  the  average  Confederates'  I  had  ever  seen  in 
the  field,  acted  as  our  guard;  they  shared  their 
rations  with  us,  and,  with  few  exceptions,  treated 
us  so  pleasantly,  that  a  looker-on  who  did  not 
know  our  relations  would  not  have  thought  us 
prisoners  under  guard. 

Though  my  musket  and  other  arms  had  been 
turned  over  to  the  enemy,  I  yet  retained  my  haver- 
sack, canteen,  and  knapsack ;  for  all  three  of  us 
from  choice  still  carried  the  last-named  article, 
though  men  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  had 
largely  discarded  them,  and  wore  simply  their 
blankets,  in  which  were  rolled  their  needful  gar- 
ments and  other  necessaries. 

One  of  our  guard  was  a  stubbed  little  Georgian, 
with  an  ugly  scar  on  his  face,  and  who  had  been 
wounded  at  Vicksburg.  At  some  remark  made 
by  one  of  our  number,  uncomplimentary  to  the 
Vicksburg  soldiers,  his  face  turned  pale  with  wrath, 
which  for  a  moment  boded  ill  for  the  one  who  pro- 
voked it. 

"  I  reckon,"  said  he,  "  yer  wouldn't  say  that  if 
you  had  been  thar." 

The  laugh  was  rather  against  the  Yank  who 
made  the  wrath-provoking  remark,  for  he  was  com- 
paratively a  new  recruit,  who  had  joined  us  on 
the  Big  Black,  after  Vicksburg. 

When  Matt  told  him  that  we  were  all  at  Vicks- 
burg, with  the  exception  of  the  offending  soldier,  he 
became  good  natured  and  friendly  at  once,  and  said, 


336  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  You  uns  used  us  right  well  thar,  Yank,  and  I'm 
going  to  use  you  just  as  well  as  I  know  how." 

I  made  some  inquiries  about  General  Preston, 
when  he  said,  "  He  commands  our  division  ;  what 
do  you  know  about  him  ?  "  I  informed  him  we 
were  acquainted  with  him  before  the  war,  and 
that  he  had  been  a  good  friend  to  Matt  when  he 
had  been  taken  prisoner  at  Shiloh. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Matt,  "  if  General  Preston 
couldn't  get  us  paroled  if  we  could  see  him." 
The  young  sergeant,  who  overheard  this  talk,  said, 
"  If  General  Johnston  were  in  command,  a  parole  or 
special  exchange  might  be  possible ;  but  General 
Preston  is  on  bad  terms  with  General  Hood,  who 
has  just  taken  command  of  our  army.  Hood  is 
said  to  distrust  all  former  friends  of  General 
Johnston.  He  is  a  brave  man,  but  not  very 
pleasant  to  those  who  disagree  with  him." 

On  our  way  to  Atlanta  he  made  some  ver}'-  in- 
telligent inquiries  regarding  public  sentiment  at 
the  North.  I  told  hiui  plainly  that  outside  of  a 
few  Copperheads,  who  called  themselves  Peace 
Democrats,  the  sentiment  was  very  general  in  favor 
of  continuing  the  war  until  the  South  was  brought 
back  into  the  Union. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  a  Black  Republican,"  he 
said  interrogatively.  Matt  replied  for  me,  "  Yes ; 
he  believes  in  human  rights  for  everything  hu- 
man, even  nio'sfers."  The  rebel  serg^eant,  after  a 
few   moments,    said   thoughtfully,   "  Yes,    and    it 


"IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY."      337 

seems  right  as  a  mere  statement  that  we  should  all 
be  in  favor  of  human  freedom.  I  suppose  I  should 
have  been  a  Black  Republican  if  I'd  been  born 
at  the  North." 

" If  man  not  blame  being  black,  is  God  blame? " 
said  Peter  with  a  stern  look  at  the  sergeant. 

Peter  felt  that  this  distinction  of  color,  that  God 
has  made,  ought  not  to  be  urged  against  a  man, 
and  hence  this  speech  or  interrogation  so  unusual 
to  him. 

The  Confederate  soldier  turned  toward  Peter 
and  said  courteously,  "You  Northern  men  don't 
understand  us.  We've  got  slavery,  and  were  raised 
with  it.  Only  a  few  men  South  consider  it  right, 
whatever  they  may  say  in  the  heat  provoked  by 
discussion.  We  do,  however,  assume,  that  it  is 
less  an  evil  among  us  than  it  could  possibly  be  with 
Northern  men,  if  they  should  become  slave-holders, 
for  we  do  not,  as  a  class,  try  to  make  money  out  of 
everj'thing  we  have."  Then  after  a  pause,  he  said, 
"  We  prefer  to  deal  with  our  own  affairs  in  our 
own  way  without  interference.  If  separated  from 
the  North,  could  we  not  manage  these  questions 
better  than  now,  when  constantly  irritated  by  its 
discussion  by  those  who  do  not  understand  it? 
When  the  South  has  gained  its  independence,  very 
likely  it  will  then  begin  a  system  of  general  eman- 
cipation." 

In  reply  to  doubts  I  expressed  of  this,  he  said, 
"  At    any  rate,  the  discussion   of   our  affairs  has 


338  TOM  CLIFTON. 

angered  our  people,  and  has  made  them  a  unit  in 
supporting  the  war.  We  should  take  more  liberal 
views  if  we  were  not  interfered  with." 

I  replied,  "  Your  politicians  stir  up  this  feeling." 
I  also  pointed  out  to  him  the  constant  political 
aggressions  of  the  South :  the  abrogation  of  the 
Missouri  Compromise ;  the  fugitive  slave  act ; 
making  hunting-grounds  of  free  territory,  and 
similar  acts,  to  which  he  replied,  — 

"  The  politicians  did  this ;  they  claimed  it  was 
made  necessary  in  order  to  give  the  South  an  even 
chance  with  the  North.  They  excited  the  preju- 
dices of  our  people,  and  drove  us  into  this  terrible 
war,  which  we  now  feel  compelled  to  sustain  with 
all  our  power  to  the  bitter  end.  There  were  a 
good  many  who  -did  not  originally  think  it  politic 
or  right  to  dissolve  the  old  Union,  but  finally, 
being  obliged  to  adopt  one  side  or  the  other, 
naturally  went  with  our  own  people.  We  are 
done  with  the  old  flag  forever  now ! "  Here 
the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  change  of 
guard. 

I  shook  hands  with  this  young  Confederate  sol- 
dier, who  impressed  me  with  having  many  manly 
qualities.  I  do  not  remember  meeting  a  young 
man  on  either  side  who  so  favorably  impressed 
me  with  modest  and  grave  but  friendly  manners. 

Among  the  Confederates  I  met  during  the  war 
there  seemed  to  be  less  careless  light-heartedness 
and  a  more  subdued  gravity  than  among  similar 


"/iV   THE  HANDS   OF  THE  ENEMY."     339 

men  in  our  own  ranks.  Is  it  a  natural  trait  of 
Southern  men,  or  did  the  war  produce  this  sober- 
ing effect? 

Tlie  new  guard  was  composed  of  boys  from  four- 
teen to  eighteen  years  of  age,  while  some  I  should 
judge  were  as  young  as  thirteen.  They  were  very 
unlike  in  manners  and  speech  those  who  had  pre- 
ceded them.  With  here  and  there  an  exception, 
they  were  evidently  from  the  class  termed  in  the 
South,  "  Low  down  people,  "  or  "  poor  whites." 

One  of  these  boys  shot  one  of  the  prisoners 
not  twenty  minutes  after  being  placed  on  guard. 
I  did  not  learn  the  full  cause,  but  understood  it 
was  for  a  trivial  breach  of  orders. 

As  we  marched  through  the  streets  of  Atlanta 
very  little  curiosity  was  shown  by  its  people.  A 
few  small  boys  on  a  fence  shook  their  little  fists 
and  threw  stones  at  us,  and  in  treble  tones  said 
something  about  blamed  Yanks  !  Here  and  there 
a  military  lounger  called  out,  or  a  group  of  women 
turned  their  heads  to  glance  at  us.  Yankee  pris- 
oners marching  through  the  streets  had  evidently 
become  too  common  to  excite  curiosity. 

I  bought  two  loaves  of  wheat  bread  from  a 
woman  who  was  either  passing  with  a  basket  of 
loaves  or  had  it  for  sale  on  the  street.  The  fact 
that  most  impressed  me  was,  that  she  much  pre- 
ferred Yankee  greenbacks  in  payment,  to  Confed- 
erate money,  or  local  scrip. 

I  gave  half  of  one  of  these  loaves  to  the  guard, 


340  TOM  CLIFTON., 

who  was  eying  it  hungrily,  and  in  return  received 
corn-bread.  This  act  seemed  to  have  inclined  him 
to  be  friendly  with  me ;  for  while  we  were  halting 
on  the  sidewalk  he  advised  me  to  roll  my  blanket 
and  put  inside  of  it  such  things  as  I  desired  to 
keep,  as  my  knapsack  would  probably  be  taken 
from  me. 

Atlanta  seemed  a  beautiful  place.  It  was  built 
upon  tableland,  surrounded  by  parks,  shaded  walks, 
and  fine  residences.  Evidences  of  wealth  were 
seen  on  every  side,  and  well-dressed  men  and 
women  walked  the  streets. 

Upon  our  arrival,  there  was  quite  a  group  of 
ladies  near  the  depot,  apparently  expecting  friends. 
The  women  of  Atlanta  manifested  much  contempt 
for  Yanks.  I  did  not  care  to  be  spit  at  by  the 
most  beautiful  women  with  the  rosiest  lips. 

The  provost  marshal  who  here  took  charge  of 
us  was  very  consequential,  and,  as  Matt  said,  con- 
sidered himself  a  swell.  We  were  marched  through 
some  of  the  principal  streets,  and,  when  halting  at 
one  time,  a  few  well-dressed  women  in  carriages 
showed  their  devotion  to  the  Southern  cause  by 
cheering  for  Jeff  Davis  and  General  Hood.  We  in 
return  cheered  for  General  Sherman  and  President 
liincoln,  and  then  gave  three  more  for  General 
Grant. 

The  greatest  confidence  was  expressed  by  some 
of  the  people  on  the  sidewalk  of  their  ability  to 
whip  the  Yankee  army.     We  were  finally  marched 


"IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY."       341 

into  an  enclosure,  half  an  acre  in  extent,  surrounded 
by  a  board  fence  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  high,  in 
which  there  were  over  a  hundred  other  prisoners. 
Here  some  Indian  meal  and  bacon  were  issued  to 
us. 

There  was  no  shelter,  there  were  no  fires,  and, 
had  there  been,  it  was  so  dark  and  we  were  so 
fatigued  that  we  should  have  been  indisposed  to 
cook,  although  very  hungry. 

Here  our  knapsacks  and  other  things  not  in  our 
blankets  were  taken  from  us,  the  airy  provost  mar- 
shall  remarking  in  his  oratorical  manner,  "  Confis- 
cated to  the  Confederacy  as  war  material ; "  and  it 
amused  us  when  he  absent-mindedly  made  this  re- 
mark on  taking  away  Peter's  fine-toothed  comb. 
But  Peter  looked  very  angry,  as  he  said  scornfully, 
"  Needs  it  more  Peter  does." 

The  next  morning,  with  two  hundred  other  pris- 
oners, we  were  marched  to  the  railroad  station, 
under  guard,  and  put  on  board  of  box  cars  to  be 
sent  to  Andersonville,  the  mention  of  which,  even 
then,  thrilled  us  with  inexpressible  horror,  for  we 
had  heard  terrible  stories  of  it  from  the  lips  of  es- 
caped prisoners. 

There  were  five  car-loads  of  prisoners  in  the 
train ;  but  although  there  were  forty  or  fifty  men 
each,  on  most  of  the  cars,  we  noticed  that  there 
w^re  not  more  than  twenty  on  the  car  we  occupied, 
and  but  two  sentinels  on  top  of  this  car,  while  one 
sat  inside  before  the  open  sliding  door  at  the  side. 


342  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Finally  the  train  started  on  its  way  southward, 
and  our  hearts  fell  at  the  possible  fate  in  store  for  us. 

The  young  Confederate  soldier  who  sat  at  the 
broad  entrance  of  our  car  could  read  and  write,  and 
was  evidently  of  a  better  class  than  the  majority 
of  our  guard.  A  portion  of  his  time  during  the 
day  was  spent  in  reading  a  New  Testament  and  in 
croning  over  a  small  song-book,  the  tunes  of  which 
were  mostly  familiar  to  the  soldiers  of  our  army, 
with  the  words  changed  to  Southern  use. 

The  Yanks  soon  joined  in  singing  these  tunes, 
the  reb  soldier  using  his  own  version,  and  we  the 
words  in  common  use  among  us. 

When  the  two  versions  conflicted,  as,  "We'll 
hang  Abe  Lincoln  to  a  sour  apple-tree,"  while  we 
sang,  "  We'll  hang  Jeff  Davis  to  a  sour  apple-tree," 
the  effect  was  ludicrous,  and  the  young  Confeder- 
ate seemed  a  little  disgusted. 

Matt  was  not  a  good  singer ;  he  could  sing  very 
loud,  but  not  very  well.  Sam  Ryder  once  face- 
tiously said  Matt  could  sing  right  along  side  of  a 
tune  and  not  hit  a  note,  and  that  it  didn't  matter 
what  the  tune  was  he  varied  his  singing  but  very 
little  for  it.  But  Matt  never  seemed  to  understand 
that  he  was  not  as  good  a  vocalist  as  the  very  best. 

Our  progress  was  slow,  and  for  four  or  five  hours 
during  the  day  we  were  switched  off  while  waiting 
for  supply-trains  to  pass.  At  that  time  we  w^e 
allowed  to  get  off  to  cook  food  and  stretch  our 
legs. 


"/iV   THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY."     34o 

Our  car  was  hot  and  uncomfortable,  being  ven- 
tilated only  at  the  doorway;  but  as  the  sun  declined 
it  became  cooler,  and  we  went  slowly  jolting  along 
through  the  Southern  pine  land  that  skirted  the 
road.  The  passing  shadows  of  these  tall  pines,  and 
the  monotonous  jolting,  with  the  singing  of  the 
guard,  soon  lulled  me  into  a  profound  sleep. 


844  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

A  PKISONER   LOOSE   IN   DIXIE. 

A  SUDDEN  jolt  of  the  cars  awoke  me,  when  I 
found  that  Peter  had  changed  his  position  and  was 
sitting  near  the  Confederate-  guard,  while  Matt 
passed  me  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  I  read,  "  Peter 
and  I  think  of  gagging  that  reb  and  jumping  the 
train.  What  do  you  think  ?  "  I  nodded  my  head  in 
assent.  Peter  glanced  at  me  inquiringly,  and  I 
nodded  my  head  once  more,  and  in  another  instant 
he  had  thrown  his  brawny  arm  around  the  neck  of 
the  guard,  and  soon  had  him  gagged  and  tied  hand 
and  foot. 

There  were  some  protests  against  this  proceed- 
ing from  the  timid  ones  in  the  car.  One  said, 
"  You'll  get  us  all  killed  !  "  but  an  angry,  threaten- 
ing motion  from  Peter,  who  was  at  the  doorway 
and  who  had  the  guard's  musket,  silenced  these 
outcries. 

The  young  rebel  soldier  evidently  did  not  expect 
any  mercy,  for  he  moved  his  eyes  in  mute  appeal 
from  one  to  the  other  of  us. 

"  He's  about  my  size,"  said  Matt.     "  I  guess  I'll 


A   PRISONER  LOOSE  IN  DIXIE.  345 

swap  clothes  with  him,  though  mine  are  a  little 
the  best." 

"What's  that  for?"  I  inquired. 

"  Why,"  said  Matt,  "  I'ni  goin'  to  turn  myself 
into  a  reb  and  stand  guard." 

"  Just  thing,"  said  Peter  with  a  nod  of  agree- 
ment, as  if  such  a  proceeding  was  the  most  natural 
one  in  the  world. 

When  the  reb  was  dressed  in  Matt's  uniform, 
and  Matt  in  rebel  gray,  and  Matt  had  changed 
places  with  Peter  at  the  doorway,  and  assumed 
the  rebel's  musket,  haversack,  and  song-book,  we 
thought  it  an  improvement. 

The  clothes  fitted  him  so  well  that  when  the 
soft  gray  hat  was  pulled  down  over  his  eyes  the 
transformation  was  complete,  and  I  could  hardly 
realize  that  it  was  not  the  original  Confederate 
guard. 

"  Good  reb  nuf,"  said  Peter  approvingly. 

We  now  began  to  discuss  whether  it  was  best  to 
jump  from  the  car  then,  or  wait  until  it  should  be 
darker,  when  the  train  began  to  slow  up,  and 
finally  stopped. 

"It  won't  do  to  jump  now,  anyway,"  said  a  big 
Massachusetts  man  named  Shaw,  who  had  been 
acting  with  us.  "  We've  got  to  play  this  hand  out, 
if  we  don't  take  a  trick." 

Just  then  the  sergeant  of  the  rebel  guard  came 
up,  and,  addressing  our  supposed  guard,  said, 
"  Hardy,  we  are  a-goiu'  to  issue  the  Yanks  some 


346  TOM  CLIFTON. 

grub  fixin's  here,  I  reckon. '"*  Then  seeing  the 
bound  man  near  the  doorway,  said,  "  You  mustn't 
let  tlie  Yanks  get  so  near  the  door." 

"  Dead  Yank,"  Matt  replied.     "  Just  died." 

"  Well,  put  him  off  here.  Get  the  Yanks  to 
help  you.  They  won't  run  away,  I  reckon,  with 
the  guard  on  top  thar  ready  to  pop  at  'um." 

Rations  of  water  and  uncooked  Indian  meal  and 
cow  pease  were  soon  issued  and  divided  among 
our  men.  Matt  was  careful  to  let  the  sergeant  of 
the  guard  do  most  of  the  talking. 

"  I'll  stand  here  by  the  door  while  that  big 
Yank  helps  you  carry  out  the  dead  one,"  said 
the  rebel  sergeant.  So  in  the  darkness  Matt  and 
Peter  laid  the  bound  reb  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
The  reb  struggled  very  unlike  a  dead  man,  but  it 
was  too  dark  for  the  sergeant  to  observe  this. 

He  then  left  us,  and  the  train  began  to  move, 
when,  one  after  another,  we  jumped  unperceived  to 
the  ground,  and  glided  into  the  darkling  woods. 

''  Easy  rolling  off  log !  "  said  Peter  com- 
placently. 

"  Sure,"  said  Matt,  with  a  lapse  into  Irish 
dialect,  which  was  common  with  him  when  under 
excitement,  "  sure  if  they'd  stopped  the  cars 
twenty  minutes  sooner,  the  Old  Nick  wud  a-been 
to  pay,  and  I'd  got  paid  for  bein'  a  Confederate. 
I  felt  as  guilty  as  a  dog,  seeing  that  poor  chap 
layin'  there  with  his  feet  tied,  and  Peter's  dirty 
handkerchief  stuffed  into  his  mouth." 


A   PRISONER  LOOSE  IN  DIXIE.  347 

On  getting  into  the  woods  our  first  procedure 
was  to  hold  a  consultation  about  our  route  of 
travel.  It  was  then  agreed  to  break  up  into  small 
parties,  each  to  use  his  best  judgment  in  en- 
deavoring to  reach  our  lines. 

Our  party  consisted  of  the  big  Massachusetts 
man,  named  Shaw,  whom  I  have  before  mentioned. 
Matt,  Peter,  myself,  and  a  little  Tennesseean,  who 
relied  upon  us  so  much  that  we  had  not  the  heart 
to  refuse  him. 

"  Get  way  from  here  quick,"  said  Peter. 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt ;  "we  must  walk  all  night, 
for  they  will  get  after  us  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  if  not  before." 

That  night  we  travelled  through  the  woods  in 
what  Peter  said  was  a  north-west  direction.  This 
he  determined  by  occasionally  examining  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  and  by  glimpses  of  the 
stars.  We  walked  in  single  file,  with  Peter  in 
advance,  and  Matt  with  his  musket  bringing  up 
the  rear. 

The  hicrh  rollinor  land  seemed  to  lie  in  beds, 
with  a  ravine  on  one  side  and  a  swamp  upon  the 
other. 

Rain  began  to  fall  during  the  night,  and  towards 
twelve  o'clock  it  came  down  in  torrents,  drenching 
us  to  the  skin.  Later  it  cleared,  and  the  stars 
came  out. 

We  went  on,  with  occasional  rests,  until  day- 
light, when  we  halted  to  cook  rations  and  get  some 


348  TOM  CLIFTON. 

sleep.  Then  for  the  first  time  Matt  examined  the 
rebel  haversack,  and  found  in  it  a  large  knife, 
about  two  pounds  of  bacon,  two  pones  of  Indian 
cake,  about  five  pounds  of  wheaten  flour  in  a  cotton 
bag,  and  also  some  salt,  and  a  bunch  of  red  pep- 
pers. "Good  for  nothing,"  said  Peter  disdainfully, 
throwing  the  peppers  aside ;  but  the  little  Ten- 
nessee comrade  said,  — 

"  If  the  dogs  get  after  us  fellers,  they  are  just 
the  thing  to  rub  on  the  bottoms  of  our  shoes  to 
throw  them  off  the  track.  '  Dogs  don't  like  red 
pepper  a  bit." 

We  had  never  heard  this  theory  before,  and  do 
not  even  now  know  whether  it  is  true  or  false,  but 
it  certainly  is  one  entertained  by  many  who  ought 
to  know. 

We  found  a  place  where  we  thought  we  could 
safely  do  our  cooking,  in  a  little  ravine  well  con- 
cealed by  foliage.  Here  we  fried  bacon,  cooked 
some  cakes,  and  then,  wearied  with  our  night's 
pilgrimage,  slept  so  soundly  that  it  must  have 
been  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  we  woke 
and  resumed  our  travel  through  the  dense  woods. 
I  had  with  me  a  book-map  which,  if  not  very 
minute,  gave  us  a  good  general  idea  of  Georgia, 
Tennessee,  Alabama,  and  North  and  South  Caro- 
lina. This  map  I  had  carried  for  some  months, 
the  better  to  understand  the  country  through 
which  we  were  campaigning. 

Before  night  we  came  to  a  low  and  level  region, 


A    PRISONER   LOOSE  IN  DIXIE.  349 

stretching  far  out  on  onr  front,  right  and  left. 
The  night  fog  settled  near  the  ground,  giving  the 
country  the  appearance  of  a  lake. 

Here  we  encountered  tall  weeds  of  the  Southern 
lowland,  through  which  we  forced  our  way  with 
difficulty,  as  they  were  wet  with  dew  and  high 
above  our  heads. 

After  getting  through  them  we  came  to  higher 
ground,  which  proved  to  be  ploughed,  with  field 
after  field  of  the  tall,  white  stalks  on  which  grew 
Southern  corn  just  in  the  milk.  We  filled  our 
haversacks  with  it  for  future  use. 

"  Get  out  here  soon  as  can,"  said  Peter. 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  big  Massachusetts  man ; 
"  it's  too  civilized  to  be  safe  here  ;  "  and  this  re- 
mark was  just  then  emphasized  by  the  barking  of 
dogs  and  the  voices  of  people  at  a  house  near  us, 
which  we  could  not  see. 

We  now  made  haste  towards  a  piece  of  thick 
woods.  Passing  out  of  this  we  came  to  a  hedofe 
of  cane-brake,  so  compact  and  interlaced  that  it 
was  impossible  to  make  any  progress,  except  by 
following  huge  Peter,  in  single  file. 

We  then  reached  a  stream,  and  travelled  along 
the  banks  to  find  a  fording-place,  but  finally  crossed 
it  on  a  log. 

The  river  here  made  several  abrupt  turns,  which 
necessitated  our  crossincr  it  aofain,  if  we  held  our 
course  to  the  north,  so  Ave  took  up  our  line  of 
march  farther  towards  the  west,  to  avoid  it. 


350  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Twice  during  the  following  day  we  heard  dogs, 
and  once,  while  I  was  standing  guard  as  my  com- 
rades slept,  men  passed  along  a  cart-path  not  far 
from  us. 

For  the  two  nights  following  we  travelled,  but 
lay  concealed  during  the  intervening  day.  On  the 
fifth  day  out,  believing  there  was  but  little  danger 
of  being  recaptured,  we  travelled  during  the  day 
and  also  part  of  the  night,  keeping  away  from 
roads  and  clearings  as  far  as  practicable.  We,  how- 
ever, procured  green  corn  from  the  fields  for  food. 

I  think  it  was  the  seventh  day  after  our  escape, 
when  we  struck  a  swamp,  very  dense  and  hard  to 
penetrate. 

I  was  nerveless  and  worn  out,  and  too  weak  to 
travel.  In  debating  our  plans  with  Nevins,  the 
Tennesseean,  and  Shaw,  they  both  insisted  that 
our  only  safety  consisted  in  keeping  to  the  swamps 
and  woods  and  away  from  roads  and  dwellings. 

But  Matt  and  Peter  both  felt  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  pursue  this  course  any  longer,  as  I 
was  breaking  down.  I  urged  them  to  abandon  me 
and  save  themselves,  but  Peter  declared  that  they 
would  not  do  so. 

After  some  debate,  Nevins  and  Shaw  said  they 
would  strike  out  for  themselves,  and  leave  us  to 
pursue  our  own  course.  So  we  separated  from 
these  two  men  with  many  expressions  of  good 
will  on  both  sides. 

Then  it  was  that  Matt  proposed  a  new  role;  viz., 


After  separating  fioiii  Xevins  and  Sliaw,  we  travelled  on  the  roads 
in  a  north-west  direction." — Pa^e  ool. 


A  PRISONER  LOOSE  IN  DIXIE.  351 

that  he  should  personate  a  Confederate  soldier 
guarding  two  Yankee  prisoners.  At  the  same  time 
it  was  agreed  that  we  should  come  in  contact  as  little 
as  possible  with  the  people.  That  night,  after  sepa- 
rating from  Nevins  and  Shaw,  we  travelled  on  the 
roads  in  a  north-west  direction. 

It  was  clear,  .hot,  and  starlight.  The  first  night 
on  the  road  we  went  to  sleep  on  some  hay  stacked 
in  a  field,  and  slept  so  soundly  that  the  morning 
was  dawning  before  we  awoke. 

After  again  settings  out  we  reached  a  brook 
which  ran  across  the  road,  where,  going  into  the 
wood  a  short  distance,  we  refreshed  ourselves  with 
a  good  bath,  and  filled  our  canteens. 

I  tried  very  hard  to  keep  up  that  day,  but,  after 
following  the  boys  as  well  as  I  could  for  a  time, 
began  to  grow  dizzy  and  sick  and  to  stagger  at 
every  step.  Peter  looked  at  me  sorrowfully,  and 
then  got  me  into  the  cool  woods  where  I  rested, 
with  a  blanket  under  my  head  for  a  pillow.  A 
dinner  was  here  improvised,  but  I  couldn't  eat. 
"  'T  won't  do,"  said  Matt.  "  I  believe  I  shall  have 
to  give  an  order  on  the  Confederacy  for  a  dinner 
and  a  warm  bed." 

As  I  was  burning  up  with  heat,  I  saw  but  little 
need  for  more  of  that ;  but  I  felt  that  rest  would 
be  acceptable,  for  I  trembled  with  weakness. 

Again  setting  out,  we  soon  met  an  old  man  on 
horseback  accompanied  by  a  negro  driving  a  mule 
team.     Matt  halted  and,  speaking  roughly  to  Peter 


352  TOM  CLIFTON. 

and  myself,  said  to  the  stranger,  "  I've  got  two 
Yanks  yer,  and  I'm  goin'  to  Atlanta  with  um." 

"  Why  don't  yer  go  to  Macon  ?  "  interrogated  the 
old  man.     "  That's  nearer  than  Atlanta." 

"  Well,"  said  Matt,  "  my  regiment  is  at  Atlanta, 
and  I'm  just  a-goin'  to  get  these  Yanks  thar !  " 

After  some  further  conversation,  Matt  asked  if 
he  could  get  a  good  dinner  at  his  house.  The  man 
replied  that  we  could,  and  when  we  reached  there 
we  did  get  a  satisfying  meal  of  fried  chicken,  bacon, 
and  Indian  cake. 

I  did  not  have  much  appetite,  and  the  woman  of 
the  house  said  compassionately,  "  The  young  man 
is  sick. !  "  To  which  Matt  replied,  "I  suppose  the 
Yank  is  human,  but  I  can't  think  so,  since  he  is  an 
enemy  of  our  glorious  country." 

"You're  Irish,  are  you  not?"  asked  the  old 
planter. 

"No;  I  was  born  in  Ireland,"  said  INIatt  with  a 
laugh  ;  "  but  if  I'd  been  born  in  a  crockery-shop, 
should  I've  been  a  dish  ?  " 

After  dinner  Matt  made  considerable  parade  in 
taking  out  his  song-book.  He  asked  the  planter  if 
he  would  like  to  hear  a  bit  of  music  called  "  When 
this  cruel  war  is  over." 

When  Matt  began  his  alleged  song  his  howling 
was  so  ludicrously  unmusical  that  I  could  not  keep 
from  laughing,  and  even  Peter,  with  an  unusual 
grin  of  amusement,  said,  "  More  howl  dan  music !  " 
at  which  Matt  frowned  on  him  in  true  rebel  style. 


A   PRISONER  LOOSE  IN  DIXIE.  353 

Some  hot  tea  was  given  me  by  the  woman,  and 
she  exhibited  so  much  sympathy  that  I  could  not 
help  thinking  she  must  have  a  son  in  the  Confed- 
erate army. 

Matt  was  very  rough  with  us  until  out  of  sight 
of  the  house,  when  he  resumed  his  old  manner. 

I  braced  up  for  a  while  after  this,  but  by  three 
o'clock  that  afternoon  gave  out  again.  My  knees 
trembled,  and  my  stomach  seemed  suspended  by  a 
thread.  In  this  emergency,  in  spite  of  my  protest, 
Peter  picked  me  up  and  carried  me  as  he  had  often 
done  when  I  was  a  twelve-year-old  boy. 

There  was  a  restf  ulness  communicated  to  me  by 
Peter,  whether  springing  from  his  tender-hearted 
sympathy,  or  from  the  ease  of  his  motions,  or  other- 
wise, is  not  material,  for  I  went  to  sleep  in  his  arms 
while  being  carried,  and  on  awaking  found  myself 
on  the  greensward  before  an  aristocratic  mansion 
of  Southern  type,  with  its  customary  surroundings 
of  mud-chinked  negro  quarters  and  outbuildings. 

When  Matt,  with  his  musket  over  his  shoulder 
went  to  the  house,  striding  alongside  his  giant 
companion,  taking  two  steps  to  Peter's  one,  I  re- 
member of  thinking  him  very  like  many  other  Con- 
federate boy  soldiers  I'd  seen. 

Shortly  after  this  they  returned  and  carried  me 
to  the  veranda,  where  there  were  three  people. 
One  was  a  kindly  looking  man  seventy  years  of 
age,  or  thereabouts,  verj'  polite ;  a  quiet,  well- 
dressed  dame,   and  a  young  miss  of  sixteen,  one 


354  TOM  CLIFTON. 

of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  type  of  the  Southern 
brunette  I  had  ever  seen. 

The  lines  of  her  face,  I  noticed  even  then,  were 
regular,  though  her  chin  was  rather  prominent,  and 
her  nose  had  just  a  piquant  turn  upward,  suggest- 
ive of  mischief  and  humor.  Her  eyes  were  large, 
dark,  and  bright,  and  had  in  them  a  concentrated 
power  which  people  call  magnetic.  Her  hands  and 
feet  were  small  and  beautifully  shaped.  I  noticed 
these  things  at  a  glance,  sick  as  I  was.  "  Put  the 
boy  in  the  hammock,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

We  had  been  seated  but  a  little  while  when 
Matt  produced  his  song-book,  and  howled  the 
"  Bonny  blue  flag,"  "  Mother,  I've  come  home  to 
die,"  and  "  We'll  hang  Abe  Lincoln  to  a  sour  apple- 
tree,"  with  a  voice  that  Peter  had  already  intimated 
had  "more  howl  than  music." 

The  scene  was  so  ludicrous  that,  though  sick,  I 
could  not  restrain  my  laughter,  at  which  there  went 
up  a  ripple  of  laughter  from  the  young  girl,  and  a  • 
hearty  ha!  ha!  ha!  from  the  old  gentleman. 
Matt  scowled  at  this  and  was  really  angry,  as  he 
pointed  to  me  and  said,  "  Shure  thar's  no  music  in 
that  Yank." 

The  old  gentleman  was  here  interrupted  by  a 
servant  coming  to  the  veranda  with "  his  medicine 
case,  from  which  he  gave  me  a  liberal  dose  of  pills 
and  quinine. 

"  It's  'time  we  were  moving  now,  Yanks,"  said 
Matt  to  us ;  and  then    to    our  host,  "  Shure,  sir 


A  PRISONER  LOOSE  IN  DIXIE.  355 

and  madam,  accept  my  thanks  for  your  hospi- 
tality." 

I  made  an  effort  to  get  out  of  the  hammock,  but 
turned  faint  and  sick  in  the  attempt. 

"  This  young  man  must  not  travel  in  his  present 
state  of  health,"  said  the  old  gentleman  compas- 
sionately but  decidedly,  and  then  added,  "  While 
I  do  not  claim  to  be  a  practitioner,  I  yet  have  a 
good  knowledge  of  medicine  and  also  of  symptoms, 
and  I  assure  you  this  young  man  needs  rest  and 
medical  treatment." 

I  thanked  him  and  said,  "  We  must  not  trouble 
you  too  much  ;  but,  if  the  guard  is  willing,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  accept  your  kindness." 


356  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

IN   THE   SWA]VIPS. 

The  next  morning,  though  weak,  I  had  less 
fever. 

A  nice  breakfast  of  eggs  on  toast,  with  coffee, 
was  brought  to  me  on  the  veranda. 

The  young  lady  kindly  inquired  after  my  health. 
I  felt  the  blood  rush  to  my  cheeks,  as  this  South 
Carolina  maiden  stood  at  my  chair,  and  gave  to 
the  young  colored  girl  a  few  thouglitful  directions 
for  my  comfort.  I  stammered  out  my  thanks  for 
her  kindness. 

Matt  had  opened  his  song-book,  and  begun  what 
Peter  called  his  howl,  when  back  of  me  I  heard 
a  step,  and  presently  on  looking  up  saw  a  young 
fellow  in  Confederate  uniform. 

The  old  doctor,  who  just  at  that  moment  had 
come  to  the  veranda,  said  to  the  young  Confeder- 
ate, I  thought  apologetically,  ''  One  of  our  sol- 
diers with  two  prisoners;  "  then,  placing  his  hand 
on  my  wrist,  said,  "  Ah,  yes  ;  fever  abated  —  bet- 
ter ;  — just  a  little  more  quinine  ;  "  and  he  gave  me 
a  dose  that  made  my  mouth  pucker.  Matt  laughed 
and  said  suggestively, "  Green  persimmons,  Yank  ?  " 


IN  THE  SWAMPS.  357 

The  doctor  and  the  Confederate  lieutenant  had 
walked  away  when  Peter,  putting  his  finger  to 
his  lips  for  silence,  said,  "  Young  reb  talk,"  then 
glided  to  the  farther  end  of  the  veranda,  stood  in 
that  attitude  of  intense  listening  we  had  often 
noticed  when  hunting,  and  then  returned  to  us 
and  said,  "  Reb  told  old  man  they  all  Yanks,"  at 
the  same  time  making  a  gesture  towards  Matt, 
then  after  a  moment  he  said,  "  Night,  get  way  from 
here  !    Now  make  believe  happy  all  day !  " 

I  knew  from  Peter's  face  and  manner  that  his 
alarm  was  no  idle  matter,  and  from  his  words  I 
inferred  that  he  wished  us  to  throw  the  people  off 
their  guard  by  appearing  unsuspecting  and  con- 
tented. 

I  told  Matt  what  Peter  had  intimated,  when 
Matt  replied,  "  That  young  reb  looked  me  over 
suspiciously  and  questioned  me.  Say,  Tom  !  I'll 
capture  the  lot  of  'um,  girl  and  all,  and  march  'um 
to  Sherman's  lines,  if  you  say  the  word." 

I  think  I  must  have  blushed  when  Matt  said 
"  girl ;  "  for  he  gave  me  an  expressive  look  of 
amusement,  as  I  replied  in  a  low  voice,  "  No, 
Matt;  these  people  have  been  good  to  us,  and  we 
mustn't  disturb  their  home." 

Matt's  face  changed  to  an  expression  of  sym- 
pathy, which  sometimes  made  him  beautiful,  as  he 
said,  "Now,  shure,  may  the  saints  preserve  them; 
we'll  not  hurt  a  hair  on  their  heads  !  " 

As  we  were  conversing,  the  old  gentleman  came 


358  TOM  CLIFTON. 

out  on  the  veranda  again,  and  Matt,  approaching 
him,  said,  "  Sir,  do  you  think  the  sick  Yank  will 
have  fever?  " 

The  old  man  blandly  regarded  Matt  and  replied, 
"  With  proper  rest  and  food  he  will  be  able  to 
march  in  a  few  days.  Si !  Si  !  "  called  the  doctor, 
"bring  my  case  here  !  "  The  doctor  gave  me  some 
drops,  saying,  "  He  needs  stimulants,"  and  then  in 
an  undertone,  as  if  unconscious  of  his  words,  mut- 
tered, "  Mere  boys  !  mere  boys  !  when  will  it  all 
end?" 

When  captured  I  had  preserved  my  sketch- 
book, and  on  one  of  the  few  remaining  leaves  I 
proceeded  to  sketch  the  veranda  and  its  occupants 
—  the  old  gentleman  in  his  chair.  Matt  with  his 
mouth  open  with  howling,  Peter  grim  and  quiet, 
the  fair  young  girl  and  her  stately  mother. 

The  likeness  of  the  young  maiden  was  quite 
a  striking  one,  for  it  seemed  to  come  from  my 
pencil  without  an  effort.  I  was  so  intently  en- 
gaged in  finishing  it  that  I  did  not  notice  that 
she  had  left  her  seat  and  was  overlooking  my 
work. 

I  started  and  looked  confused  when  she  said 
apologetically,  "  I  spoke,  but  you  did  not  notice 
me  ! " 

"  What  is  it,  Marion  ?  "  inquired  her  mother. 

"  This  soldier  has  made  such  a  splendid  sketch  ! " 
then  to  me,  "  May  I  show  it  to  my  mother  ?  " 

I  took  the  sketch  from  the  book  and  handed  it 


IN  THE  SWAMPS.  359 

to  her.  I  saw  the  old  gentleman  and  his  wife  and 
daughter  laughing  quietly  over  Matt's  portrait. 

We  were  treated  very  kindly  during  the  day. 

That  night  the  family  retired  early.  We  went 
early  also  to  our  rest,  but  when  the  house  was 
quiet  Peter  roused  us  with  a  whisper,  saying,  "  Reb 
come  back ;  gobble  us." 

We  silently  made  our  way  to  the  lawn  with 
our  shoes  in  our  hands,  that  we  might  not  disturb 
the  household.  There  I  was  surprised  to  find  Si 
awaiting  us  with  a  supply  of  cooked  food  and 
some  medicine  taken  from  his  master's  medicine 
case.  We  silently  shook  hands  with  Si,  with 
whom  Peter  seemed  to  have  a  good  understanding, 
and  once  more  started  out  towards  our  lines. 

"  Take  to  woods,  swamps,"  said  Peter  with  a 
motion  of  his  hands,  when  we  were  out  of  hearing 
once  again. 

"  Do  you  think  the  old  man  will  help  hunt  us?  " 
I  inquired. 

Matt  said  gravely,  "  Not  very  willingly ; "  but 
Peter  said  he  heard  a  talk  between  the  old  doctor 
and  the  young  Confederate,  and  that  the  doctor 
advised  the  young  lieutenant  to  let  us  alone. 
Matt  said  he  thought  the  young  reb  was  not  a 
relative  of  the  family,  simply  sweet  on  Miss  Sibley, 
for  that  "was  the  name  of  the  family. 

Upon  leaving  the  plantation  we  at  once  made 
for  the  swamp  in  which  Si  had  advised  us  to  take 
refuge.      He  told  Peter  that  there  was  a  story, 


360  TOM  CLIFTON. 

which  was  believed  by  the  negroes  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, that  several  escaped  slaves  had  at  differ- 
ent times  lived  in  this  swamp,  and  the  difficulty  of 
reaching  a  fugitive  here  was  so  great  that  it  was 
seldom  persevered  in. 

We  reached  the  swamp  at  twelve  o'clock  that 
night,  at  which  time  a  white  veil-like  vapor  over- 
hung it. 

Halting  for  a  few  moments  to  rally  resolution  and 
strength,  we  entered  this  formidable  entanglement 
of  vines,  trees,  briers,  canebrake,  bogs,  and  water. 

At  first  we  took  our  course  along  the  borders  of 
the  swamp  in  a  westerly  direction.  It  was  very 
gloomy :  the  tall,  spectral  trees,  with  funeral-like 
festoons  of  moss  hanging  from  their  branches  wav- 
ing in  the  night  breeze  against  the  background  of 
the  dim,  moon-lit  sky ;  the  ghostly  vapor  rising 
from  the  swamp,  partly  defining  its  outlines  like  a 
monster  irregular  cross,  depressed  me  with  gloomy 
forebodings. 

Our  advance  was  slow,  for,  as  if  jealous  of  man's 
intrusion,  the  tangled  growths  disputed  almost 
every  step  of  progress.  In  addition  to  this,  every 
step  had  to  be  felt  out  with  our  canes  before  we 
could  place  our  feet  upon  the  trembling,  boggy  sur' 
face  with  safety.  We  stumbled  and  plodded  on- 
ward, however,  until  nearly  daylight.  The 
strongest  in  our  party  was  jaded,  while  I  was  weak 
and  trembling  with  the  exertion. 

At  last  we  reached   a  hummock,  elevated  and 


IN  THE  SWAMPS.  361 

dry,  and  free  from  briers,  and  here  we  rested.  Our 
feet  were  wet  and  covered  with  mud,  and  our  cloth- 
ing saturated  with  the  heavy  night  dew.  We 
were  too  tired  to  eat,  and  went  to  sleep  from  sheer 
fatigue. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  Peter  made  a  fii'e  and 
fried  some  eggs  and  bacon  in  the  little  pan  Matt 
had  found  in  the  rebel  guard's  haversack.  Peter 
climbed  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  trees  to  take  an 
observation,  and  came  down  with  a  ludicrous  ex- 
pression of  discouragement  on  his  face.  Matt,  not 
satisfied,  climbed  the  tree  to  look  out  for  himself, 
and  came  down  more  crestfallen  than  Peter,  say- 
ing, "  No  wonder  Peter  looked  discouraged,  for  the 
plantation  from  which  we  started  is  in  plain  sight 
on  the  high  land  back  of  us." 

Peter,  who  liad  apparently  been  thinking  over 
the  situation,  finally  said,  ''  Safe  nuff."  Matt  ex- 
plained that  we  had  reached  our  position  over  a 
narrow  tongue  of  land,  surrounded  with  swamp 
and  water,  but  which,  in  a  straight  line,  was  not 
a  mile  from  our  starting-place.  If  the  rebs  followed 
us  with  dogs  we  should  get  warning  enough  to 
escape  across  the  sluggish  stream  near  us  on  three 
sides,  for  any  one  following  our  track  would  meet 
with  the  same  impediments  that  we  had.  We 
therefore  determined  to  remain  where  we  were  for 
a  while  and  see  if  we  were  pursued. 

The  next  day  the  only  incident  of  note  that  oc- 
curred was  that  some  quails  lit  near  us,  and  Matt 


362  TOM  CLIFTON. 

fired  at  them,  killing  three,  before  Peter  could  in- 
terfere. 

"  Men  hear  that !  "  said  Peter  reproachfully. 

"Of  course,"  said  Matt,  "they  know  we  are 
somewhere,  but  others  might  fire  guns  in  'this 
country  as  well  as  ourselves." 

"  Don't  let  us  travel  until  we  are  hunted,"  I  pro- 
tested; "I'm  too  sick  to  scramble  through  this 
swamp." 

"  We'll  have  these  quails  to  eat  anyway,"  said 
Matt  as  he  prepared  them  for  broiling. 

We  remained  here  for  several  days.  I  was  no 
better,  but,  on  the  contrary,  felt  that  I  was  losing 
strength.  The  air  around  me  was  permeated  with 
a  faint  odor  of  decayed  vegetation,  and  sickly 
vapors,  freighted  with  miasma,  seemed  to  float  in 
the  atmosphere.  That  which  nourishes  a  rank 
vegetation  often  kills  man. 

In  any  case  it  was  agreed  that  we  could  not 
linger  here,  for  we  were  nearly  out  of  food,  and  so 
we  began  our  travels  through  the  swamp  once 
more.  Sometimes  Peter  carried  me  over  diflicult 
places,  for  his  vigor  seemed  unabated. 

We  halted  on  dry  and  elevated  land,  and  here 
my  comrades  took  observations  from  the  trees  in 
order  to  determine  in  what  direction  it  was  best 
to  go,  that  we  might  replenish  our  stock  of  provis- 
ions. 

They  determined  to  leave  me  a  while  and  go 
on  this  errand.     I  was  very  tired  and  lonely  for  a 


IN   THE  SWAMPS.  363 

few  hours  after  they  had  left  me,  but  in  the  after- 
noon I  went  to  sleep.  When  I  awoke  from  a  pro- 
found and  restful  slumber,  I  looked  up  and  saw 
the  sun  higher  in  the  heavens  than  when  I  fell 
asleep.  It  was  more  than  twenty-four  hours  since  I 
began  my  slumbers,  and  neither  Matt'  nor  Peter 
had  come.  I  looked  for  my  haversack,  and  hun- 
grily ate  of  its  contents  of  Indian  cake  and 
bacon. 

Where  were  my  comrades  ?  Had  they  missed 
their  way,  or  had  they  been  captured  ? 

Full  of  doubt  I  remained  on  the  hummock  all 
day,  when  my  food  was  consumed  and  I  was  dis- 
heartened. I  knew  then  that  some  accident  had 
happened  to  my  comrades,  or  they  would  have  come 
back  to  me.  Yet  I  had  no  disposition  to  go  out 
and  surrender  myself. 

I  now  began  to  move  forward  through  the  laby- 
rinth of  the  swamp,  and,  being  hungry,  chewed  at 
twigs  which  I  broke  off  as  I  passed  along.  One 
of  these  had  a  sharp,  pungent  taste,  and  I  began  to 
imagine  it  invigorated  me. 

When  it  came  night  I  lay  down  in  the  oppressive 
silence  of  the  swamp,  and  was  lonesome  and  dis- 
couraged enough  to  cry. 

The  next  morning  I  folded  my  blanket  and, 
chewing  at  a  twig  of  the  shrub  mentioned,  began 
to  advance  once  more  in  a  purposeless  manner.  I 
found  myself  quite  free  from  fever,  but  very  weak. 

About  noon  on  this  day  I  came  out  of  a  wilder- 


364  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ness  of  cane-brake  near  a  deep  and  sluggish 
stream,  and  lay  on  the  banks  in  sheer  fatigue, 
hunger,  and  perplexity. 

As  I  was  debating  about  my  future  course,  some 
hours  after  this,  I  heard  the  deep  bay  of  blood- 
hounds, and  was  soon  satisfied  that  they  were 
on  my  track.  I  heard  men  blowing  horns  and 
shouting. 

Luckily  I  had  before  this  time  noticed  a  grape- 
vine that  had  grown  up  into  a  tree  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  stream,  and  which  was  within  reach 
from  a  tree  on  the  side  on  which  I  stood.  I  seized 
this  vine,  and  cut  it  off  so  that  it  would  swing 
clear  of  the  water.  It  was  about  half  an  inch 
thick.  My  fears  gave  me  strength,  and  I  easily 
climbed  it,  hand  over  hand,  like  a  rope. 

I  still  heard  the  sounds  of  dogs  and  men.  I 
knew  that  in  times  of  peril  one  needed  all  his 
self-possession  and  coolness,  and  so  I  proceeded 
with  that  deliberation  and  seeming  indifference  to 
danger  which  sometimes  seems  to  possess  one 
when  in  peril. 

Ascending  the  vine  until  my  feet  were  over  the 
water,  I  began  to  swing  back  and  forth  like  a  pen- 
dulum, until  I  was  able  to  clutch  the  tree  opposite 
with  my  feet  and  legs.  Holding  on  to  the  vine 
with  one  hand,  I  caught  the  tree  trunk  with  the 
other,  slid  to  the  ground,  and  quickly  hid  my- 
self. 

I  was  none  too  soon,  for  the  men  presently  came 


IN  THE  SWAMPS.  365 

out  on  the  opposite  bank.  They  were  baffled,  for 
I  heard  them  cursing  and  raging  up  and  down  the 
bank  of  the  stream. 

Finally  the  sounds  died  away,  and  I  was  still 
free. 

I  went  to  the  water,  stripped  off  my  clothes, 
and  bathed,  and  then  lay  in  the  shade,  deliberating 
what  next  to  do.  One  thing  was  certain  —  I  must 
get  food  or  perish. 

I  was  thus  deliberating  when  I  heard  a  move- 
ment in  the  bushes  near  the  stream.  I  thought  at 
first  it  might  be  a  stray  pig,  and  had  determined 
to  kill  it  for  food.  The  crackling  grew  louder, 
and  then  I  saw,  to  my  great  terror,  a  giant 
black  man  coming  along  beside  the  stream.  He 
was  angling,  and  was  partly  naked  and  partly 
clothed  in  skins. 

He  wore  no  hat,  and  his  hair  was  matted  in  a 
grotesque  mass  upon  his  head.  Wheii  he  turned 
his  face  in  my  direction,  I  saw  that  it  was  almost 
white,  but  corrugated  with  lines,  and  that  his  nose, 
instead  of  being  of  the  African  type,  was  almost 
Roman  in  its  character.  There  was  a  savaofe  de- 
termination  stamped  upon  his  face,  that  made  one 
tremble. 

Did  I  see  in  him  my  deliverance  from  death  ?  I 
spoke,  when,  with  a  bound  like  a  panther,  and 
with  angry,  startled  eyes,  he  sprang  upon  me. 
"  I'm  hungry  and  hunted,  help  me !  "  burst  from 
my  lips  with  despairing  accents. 


366  rOM  CLIFTON. 

His  aspect  changed.  He  stopped,  looked  at 
me,  and  then  advanced  with  hands  extended,  as 
if  in  encouragement,  and  with  a  compassionate 
look  on  his  face,  saying  in  strangely  pure  English 
for  a  negro,  but  in  accents  like  one  unaccustomed 
to  speech,  "  Were  they  hunting  you  ?  "  I  made 
no  motion,  but  faced  him,  saying,  "  Yes,  with  dogs. 
I  am  a  Yankee  soldier  trying  to  escape  !  "  then 
overcome  with  emotion,  I  reeled  with  weakness, 
and  fell. 

"  Yes ;  I  can  feed  and  take  care  of  you,"  were 
the  first  words  I  heard  after  this,  when  I  found 
him  supporting  me,  for  my  own  strength  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  left  me. 

With  his  rod  on  his  shoulder  and  his  rude 
fishing-basket  on  his  arm,  he  helped  me  until  we 
came  to  what  seemed  to  me  an  impassable  slough 
of  ooze  and  water.  Holding  my  arm,  he  directed 
my  feet,  and  then  I  perceived  that  piles  had 
been  driven  until  just  below  the  water,  and  that 
by  stepping  on  their  flat  tops  they  formed  a  safe 
passage  over  the  slough,  otherwise  impassable. 
"  No  white  man's  foot,"  said  he,  "  ever  trod 
there  before." 

We  soon  reached  an  elevated  spot  containing 
about  ten  acres,  which  this  boggy  swamp  com- 
pletely surrounded.  Here,  near  a  large  live  oak, 
he  prepared  his  fish,  and,  raking  out  some  live 
coals,  which  he  had  evidently  kept  covered  with 
ashes,  kindled  a  fire  and  broiled  them. 


IN  THE  SWAMPS.  367 

I  took  out  my  little  bag  of  salt  and  offered  him 

some,  but  he  refused. 

"  Eat,"  he  said;  "  it  will  do  you  good." 

I  ate  as  only  a  man  can  when  half  famished, 

while  the  giant  looked  on  in  compassionate  silence, 

and  then  he  said,  "  Come  and  sleep." 


368  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE   HUT   OF   THE   FUGITIVE. 

The  food  I  had  eaten  after  my  long  fast  invigo- 
rated me,  and  my  courage  and  confidence,  by  find- 
ing a  friend  at  tlie  time  of  my  seeming  hopeless- 
ness, were  re-established. 

I  followed  my  black  protector  into  a  portion  of 
the  swamp  which  was  thickly  studded  with  tower- 
ing cypress-trees,  whose  trunks,  like  the  pillars  of 
a  vast  temple,  supported  its  roof  of  interwoven 
branches,  which  were  hung  with  festoons  of  Span- 
ish moss.  • 

Beneath  these  branches  the  light  of  noonday 
was  shut  out  so  completely,  that  only  a  dim  twi- 
light pervaded  its  recesses,  and  all  around  there 
was  a  dark  ooze  of  mud  and  water. 

The  silence  and  gloom  conveyed  to  me  a  sensa- 
tion of  awe  Avhich  was  not  without  a  certain  im- 
press of  majesty. 

Except  our  own  voices,  the  splash  of  some  dark 
form  subsiding  lazily  into  the  ooze,  or  the  screech 
of  a  night  bird,  no  sound  broke  the  silence. 

I  hesitated,  for  I  saw  no  passage  through  this 
dark  maze.     The  negro  must  have  perceived  my 


THE  HUT  OF  THE  FUGITIVE.  369 

hesitation  ;  for  he  said,  as  if  to  give  me  confidence, 
"  Follow  close  to  me,"  and  then  over  cypress  knees, 
roots,  hummocks,  and  fallen  logs,  he  picked  his 
way  with  what  appeared  to  me  a  marvellous  in- 
stinct. 

At  last,  after  a  half-hour's  journey,  we  came  out 
upon  high  and  dry  land.  Here  we  encountered 
such  an  impediment  of  briers  and  tangled  grape 
and  laurel  vines,  that  I  found  it  impossible  to  ad- 
vance farther. 

"Try  if  you  can  get  through  der,"  said  the 
negro.  I  examined  the  dense  mass  for  two  or  three 
hundred  yards,  but  found  no  passage,  for  this  natu- 
ral barricade  extended  across  the  high  hummock 
to  the  swamp  on  each  side. 

I  thought  I  perceived  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in 
the  negro's  face  at  my  failure.  He  then  directed 
my  attention  to  a  point  in  the  barricade,  and  said, 
"  Get  on  your  hands  and  knees  and  creep  along 
these  limbs.  Don't  get  off  of  them,  or  you  will  not 
get  out  alive ;  "  and  then  I  perceived  that  by  the 
use  of  these  lever-like  branches  the  weight  of  the 
mass  was  lifted  and,  as  we  passed  over,  fell  back 
into  its  place. 

After  passing  several  other  impediments  we 
came  to  a  cleared  space  on  the  hummock,  four  or 
five  acres  in  extent,  surrounded  b}^  swamps  on  all 
sides. 

"  No  white  man  ever  came  here  before,"  said  the 
negro  as  he  stood  erect  and  looking   around  him 


370  TOM  CLIFTON. 

with  the  air  of  a  king,  or,  what  is  still  better,  that 
of  a  free  man  and  one  able  to  maintain  his  freedom. 

A  few  steps  farther  brought  us  to  a  picturesque 
hut  built  around  the  base  of  a  huge,  live  oak. 

The  rafters  of  the  hut  were  fastened  to  the  tree, . 
and  their  ends  were  supported  by  uprights,  and 
the  whole  was  interwoven  with  limbs  and  twigs, 
basket-like,  and  then  covered  with  the  bark  of 
cypress-trees,  overlapping  like  clapboards  and 
shingle,  to  render  the  hut  impervious  to  rain. 

The  floor  was  raised  some  feet  from  the  ground 
to  prevent,  as  he  informed,  me  overflowing  during 
the  rainy  seasons. 

I  was  very  curious  to  know  why  he  built  the 
hut  around  the  base  of  the  tree,  when  he  showed 
me  shelves  nailed  around  it,  and  then  to  my  aston- 
ishment showed  me  that  the  tree  was  hollow,  and 
that  he  had  ingeniously  cut  away  a  portion  of  the 
trunk,  leaving  a  swinging  door  of  its  bark.  This  door 
was  large  enough  to  conceal  a  person,  and  so  con- 
trived that,  when  shut,  the  whole  seemed  solid.  I 
also  discovered  that  one  -could  enter  here,  close  the 
door,  climb  up  inside  the  tree  trunk,  and  come 
out  at  the  top,  like  a  chimney  sweep  from  the  inte- 
rior of  a  chimney. 

In  one  corner  was  a  clay  hearth  and  a  fireplace, 
very  neatly  contrived.  All  this  excited  my  sur- 
prise and  admiration. 

The  interior  of  the  hut  was  a  model  of  neatness 
and  cleanliness.     Two  large  bear-skins  and  some 


A  few  steps  farther  brought  us  to  a  picturesque  hut,  built  around 
the  base  of  a  huge,  Uve  oak."  — Page  37U. 


THE  HUT  OF  THE  FUGITIVE.  371 

dry  pine  or  cypress  leaves  in  one  corner  of  the  hut 
formed  the  negro's  bed. 

He  kindled  a  fire  outside,  and  cooked  a  very  pal- 
atable meal  of  fried  fish  and  corn-bread,  in  an  iron 
pan,  for  our  supper,  and  showed  so  great  a  olici- 
tude  to  make  me  comfortable  that  I  could  not  help 
trusting  him. 

That  night,  at  his  request,  I  told  him  about  the 
war  and  its  tendencies  to  free  the  black  race ; 
also  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  emancipation  proclamation. 
He  seemed  to  have  some  knowledge  of  these 
things,  gained  from  the  negroes  with  whom  he  had 
intercourse  from  time  to  time. 

I  explained  the  purport  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  procla- 
mation, and  how  tender  his  heart  was  for  suffering, 
lowly  people.  He  said  after  a  long  silence,  "  It 
seems  like  a  dream.  The  white  man's  hands  have 
been  turned  against  the  black  man  when  he  dared 
to  be  a  man,  and  now  they  fall  out  among  them- 
selves and  proclaim  his  freedom  !  " 

When  I  told  him  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  life,  that  he 
had  once  been  poor  and  despised,  he  said,  "  Only 
men  ivho  have  been  crushed  and  suffering  know 
how  to  pity  and  help  other  miserable  men.  White 
men  who  own  slaves  look  on  black  men  as  dogs. 
They  treat  their  dogs  well,  but  if  they  disobey  or 
annoy  them,  they  whip  and  kill  them,  when  they 
care  to  put  themselves  to  so  much  trouble." 

He  then  briefly  told  me  that  he  had  been  raised 
in  Alabama  as  a  house  servant,  and  had  been  mar- 


372  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ried  when  only  twenty  years  of  age  to  a  young 
woman  in  the  family  of  his  master,  but  that  he  had 
afterwards  been  cruelly  whipped  and  sold  away 
from  home. 

"  Why, "  I  inquired,  "  were  you  whipped?  " 

"  I  am  a  man ;  and  I  struck  the  man  who  called 
himself  my  master  for  insulting  my  wife.  Then 
she  was  whipped  until  she  died. 

"  There  was  nothing  to  bind  me  to  white  men 
any  longer,  and  I  became  free,  and  will  maintain 
my  freedom  until  I  die.  No  man  can  capture  me, 
because  I  will  die  first ; "  and  there  was  a  glare  of 
suppressed  and  determined  frenzy  in  his  eyes, 
though  his  face  was  immovable.  A  sense  of  free- 
dom and  manhood  seemed  to  give  a  nobility  to 
this  man's  carriage.  Is  not  this  an  inevitable 
accompaniment  of  freedom  that  is  maintained  by 
personal  courage  ? 

In  the  course  of  our  first  conversations  I  gave 
him  an  account  of  my  army  life  and  of  my  escape 
with  Peter  and  Matt,  and  also  a  description  of  my 
home  life  before  I  became  a  soldier.  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  not  ascertain  what  became  of  my 
comrades. 

■  He  was  very  much  interested,  and  said  he  would 
endeavor  to  learn  what  had  become  of  them,  but 
that  he  was  pretty  sure  that  they  had  been  cap- 
tured on  going  out  of  the  swamp  ;  for  before  meet- 
ing me  he  had  noticed  armed  men  lurking  around 
there. 


THE  HUT  OF  THE  FUGITIVE.  373 

That  night  I  slept  so  soundly  that  when  I  did 
awake,  for  an  instant,  I  knew  not  where  I  was. 
Though  it  was  before  sunrise.  Quash  (for  such  was 
the  negro's  name)  had  gone.  I  amused  myself  by 
walking  around  the  hummock,  where  there  was 
surprising  evidence  of  his  ingenuity  and  industry. 

I  found  a  well-kept  garden,  in  which  there  were 
growing  pease,  beans,  sweet  potatoes,  Indian  corn, 
wheat,  and  other  edibles ;  while  in  an  enclosure  I 
found  tame  partridges  and  ducks,  but  no  hens,  and, 
as  he  afterwards  said,  "  no  other  noisy  fowl." 

Upon  Quash's  return  to  the  hummock  he  told 
me  that,  during  the  night,  he  had  been  out  of 
the  swamp,  and  had  ascertained  from  some  field 
negroes  that  my  companions  had  been  recaptured 
and  sent  to  a  down  South  prison. 

One  day,  after  rambling  around  the  swamp  with 
Quash,  I  returned,  and,  seating  myself  near  the 
cabin,  began  to  read  from  my  Bible.  I  was  thus 
engaged,  when  I  was  startled  to  find  Quash  stand- 
ing by  my  side. 

"What  do  you  read?"  he  interrogated.  When  I 
answered,  a  sneer  came  to  his  face  as  he  said,  "My 
old  master  was  a  preacher  of  that  gospel.  Before 
he  had  a  whipping  he  always  read  a  chapter 
of  it." 

"  Do  you  not,"  I  asked,  "  believe  in  Jesus  ?  " 

Quash  frowned,  but  made  no  answer.  "  You  prac- 
tise his  teachings,"  I  said,  "if  you  do  not  believe 
him."  —  "I  know  only  one  saying  in  that  book," 


374  TOM  CLIFTON. 

said  Quash  savagely  ;  "  it  is  '  Servants,  obey  your 
masters.'  I  liave  heard  that  until  I  know  it.  I've 
had  it  whipped  into  me ;  but  no  one  shall  whip  it 
into  me  again." 

"Yet  Jesus  told  us  to  do  just  as  you  have  done. 
He  has  said,  '  Do  ye  unto  others  as  ye  would  that 
they  should  do  unto  you ; '  and  He  also  said,  '  In- 
asmuch as  ye  have  done  to  the  least  of  one  of  these, 
even  so  will  I  do  unto  you.'  He  also  said,  'A 
good  man  out  of  the  treasures  of  his  heart  bringeth 
forth  that  which  is  good,  for  a  good  tree  bringeth 
not  forth  corrupt  fruit.' 

"  Is  not  this  a  test  of  real  Christianity,  rather  than 
the  profession  of  those  who  claim  to  be  Christians, 
and  yet  violate  all  of  Christ's  teachings?  Was 
your  motive  not  a  Christian  one  when  you  fed  me, 
and  helped  me  to  escape  from  my  enemies  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Quash  ;  "  my  motive  was  honest 
pity  for  a  fellow-man  in  distress.  That  is  better 
than  professing  to  be  better  than  poor,  inoffensive 
men.  My  master  did  not  believe  God  created  a 
black  man,  except  as  a  superior  kind  of  brute, 
endowed  with  senses  of  hearing  and  speech.  Can 
a  good  tree  bring  forth  such  corrupt  fruit  as 
that?" 

I  answered  him  by  saying  that  my  father  had 
once  said  that  the  best  testimony  in  favor  of  the 
goodness  of  Christ's  teachings  is  given  by  wicked 
men,  who  try  to  make  tlieir  fellow-men  believe 
they  are  guided  by  him  ;  for  men  do  not  counter- 


THE  HUT  OF  THE  FUGITIVE.  875 

feit  worthless,  but  valuable,  things.  Hypocrisy  is 
the  tribute  of  bad  men  to  Christianity.  They 
profess  to  have  this  good,  and  try  to  make  up  in 
word  service  that  which  is  lacking  in  their  life 
service. 

Quash  knit  his  brow  and  sat  in  silence  while  I 
read,  and  did  not  refer  to  the  matter  again  until 
some  time  afterwards,  when  he  said,  after  I  had 
read  aloud  the  "  Sermon  on  the  Mount,"  "  Yes, 
that  seems  good.  Why  is  it  that  men  professing 
to  believe  these  things  are  so  bad  ?  "  I  replied  by 
reading  what  my  father  had  written  on  the  fly-leaf 
of  my  Bible  :  "  The  church  that  does  the  least  for 
man  is  least  worthy  to  live ;  for  no  church  which 
is  not  full  of  benevolent  activities  can  be  His 
church." 

After  this  I  often  read  aloud  from  the  book,  but 
there  were  seldom  any  comments,  either  by  Quash 
or  myself. 

One  morning  I  awoke  with  a  throbbing  head, 
parched  tongue,  and  with  chills  and  fever. 

Quash  examined  my  flesh  and  tongue,  and  then 
said,  "  It  is  swamp-fever.  I  will  find  something  to 
cure  you." 

He  went  out  and  brought  back  some  bark,  from 
which  he  made  a  drink  —  very  strong  and  bitter. 
I  drank  it  hot,  and  soon  began  to  sweat,  and  in  the 
afternoon,  though  weak,  the  fever  had  left  me.  A 
few  doses,  taken  from  day  to  dayf  helped  me  won- 
derfully. 


376  TOM  CLIFTON. 

For  nearly  two  months  I  remained  with  Quash, 
helping  him  in  his  garden,  swinging  in  his  ham- 
mock, growing  stronger  each  day,  until  I  was 
completely  restored  to  health.  Then  I  longed  to  be 
back  again  witli  my  comrades  in  arms,  and  planned 
to  escape  to  our  lines.  I  asked  Quash  to  join  me 
in  the  effort,  but  he  persistently  refused,  and  tried 
to  dissuade  me  from  making  the  attempt ;  but 
when  he  saw  I  was  resolved,  he  assisted  in  getting 
me  ready.  Previously  learning,  through  Quash, 
the  part  of  South  Carolina  I  was  in,  I  found  I 
could  reach  our  lines  by  travelling  a  little  over  a 
hundred  miles. 

I  have  never  known  the  date  of  my  leaving  the 
swamp  that  had  sheltered  me  from  capture  so  long, 
but  it  must  have  been  near  the  last  of  September. 

Quash's  admonition  when  we  parted,  after  con- 
ducting me  to  a  field-hand's  hut,  was  to  keep 
away  from  the  houses  of  white  men  and  mulattoes. 
"  The  blacker  the  man  and  the  poorer,"  he  said, 
"  the  more  he  can  be  trusted." 

Many  who  escaped  from  rebel  prisons  will  bear 
testimony  that  Quash's  directions  were  not  wholly 
false. 

He  conducted  me  to  a  cabin,  which  I  could 
see  was  near  a  large  Southern  mansion,  knocked 
at  the  door,  when  a  decrepit  old  negro  answered 
the  summons  very  crossly,  for  he  had  evidently 
just  got  out  of , his  bed. 

"  Mose,"  said  Quash,  "  don't  you  know  me  ?  " 


THE  HUT  OF  THE  FUGITIVE.  377 

"  Clar  ter  goodness  !  if  you  ain't  der  "  —  but 
here  Quasli  silenced  him  by  a  warning  gesture. 

"  Mose,  I  want  you  to  conduct  this  man  —  a 
Yankee  soldier  —  near  to  Atlanta,  or,  at  least,  put 
him  in  the  M'ay  of  getting  there." 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Mose,  "de  Yankee  soldiers 
have  tuk  Atlanta  !  " 

This  was  the  first  intelligence  I  had  of  the  fall 
of  Atlanta,  and,  as  may  be  supposed,  it  was  very 
gratifying  to  me ;  and  I  said  to  Quash,  "  That 
means  that  the  Union  army  is  planted  right  in  the 
heart  of  the  South  ;  and  it  means  freedom  to  your 
people,  unless  the  rebs  can  drive  them  out." 

Quash's  plan  for  my  escape  was,  that  Mose 
should  travel  with  me  some  eight  miles  that  night, 
and  then  put  me  in  cliai'ge  of  another  trusted 
black  man ;  and  this  man  was  to  put  me  in  charge 
of  another ;  and  so  on  until  I  reached  the  Union 
lines.  It  appeared  to  me  there  was  an  organized 
system  of  posts  by  which  the  negroes  communi- 
cated with  each  other. 

Here  a  difficulty  seemed  to  occur,  as  old  Mose 
said  they  were  having  a  party  at  the  big  house,- 
and  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  around  early,  to 
bring  out  the  guests'  horses  in  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning. 

"  You  have  time  to  go  to  the  mills  in  that  time," 
said  Quash. 

"  Well,  I'se  got  misery  in  dis  yer  back  of  mine, 
but  I  recon  I  kin  do  hit." 


378  TOM  CLIFTON. 

On  parting  witli  Quash  I  grasped  his  hand  and 
said,  "  If  you  are  freed  by  this  war,  come  to  Min- 
nesota and  live  with  me." 

"  I'se  believe  de  day  ob  jubilee  am  comin' ;  but 
'pears  like  it  wouldn't  come  in  dis  ole  man's  time," 
interrupted  Mose.  Here  I  gave  my  Bible  to  Quash, 
as  a  parting  gift,  and  he  said  simply,  "  Thank  you. 
It  is  good.  It  has  softened  my  heart  towards  all 
men." 

I  shook  hands  with  him  ;  and  my  heart  was  full 
as  he  said,  "  You  <;an  trust  old  Mose.  He  is  as 
true  as  steel.  Follow  his  advice,  and  he  will  get 
you  through.  May  the  Lord  you  trust  in  guide 
you  to  your  friends  once  more  !  " 

And  then  I  parted  forever  with  the  noblest 
and  manliest  black  man  I  had  ever  known. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.        379 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

I  AM  obliged  to  confess  that  had  I  followed  the 
advice  of  "  Old  Mose,"  I  should  not  at  that  time, 
in  all  probability,  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  The  circumstances  which  led  to  my  cap- 
ture were  as  follows :  It  was  about  ten  o'clock  in 
the  evening  when,  accompanied  by  old  Mose,  I 
started  out  on  my  journey,  travelling  through  the 
woods,  which,  like  all  timber  land  of  the  South, 
was  very  open. 

Notwithstanding  his  seeming  decrepitude  and 
what  he  called  the  "misery  in  his  back,"  old  Mose 
travelled  very  rapidly,  constantly  muttering  advice 
in  an  undertone  which  I  did  not  always  under- 
stand. 

"Keep  awa'  fro'  de  big  houses  and  no  'count 
white  niggers;  look  fo'  help  in  de  fiel's,"  was  his 
constantly  muttered  advice. 

"  You  think  they  can't  be  trusted,  Uncle  ?  "  I 
asked.  Instead  of  replying,  the  old  man  made  a 
motion  for  silence,  exclaiming  in  a  whisper,  "  Sh  ! 
wha'  dat?"  It  was  some  one  singing;  it  was  a 
woman's  voice,  at  first  far  away  and  indistinct, 


380  TOM  CLIFTON. 

but  rapidly  coming  nearer,  until  clear,  sweet,  and 
distinct,  it  swelled  into  a  volume  of  beautiful  mel- 
ody. The  voice  thrilled  me  in  a  manner  which  at 
that  moment  I  could  not  define. 

In  a  moment  more  the  singing  was  interrupted ; 
the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  the  yelps  of  dogs  suc- 
ceeded, which  showed  me  that  the  singer  was  one 
of  a  party  on  horseback.  "  De  white  fokes  gwine 
to  de  party.  Dat  Miss  Sibley  raise  her  voice  pow- 
erful," said  old  Mose.  The  party  still  neared  us, 
laughing  and  talking,  and  I  recognized  among 
the  voices  that  of  Marion  Sibley. 

I  cannot  remember  when  I  ever  felt  as  despond- 
ent and  dissatisfied  as  I  did  then,  at  the  thought 
that  I  was  a  fugitive  among  my  enemies.  It  also 
angered  and  humiliated  me  to  confess  that  I  was 
so  much  affected  at  hearing  that  voice. 

The  dogs  meanwhile  had  come  nearer  to  us  and 
barked  several  times,  and  I  thought  I  heard  an 
undertone  of  men's  voices  before  the  party  passed 
on,  as  if  discussing  the  cause  of  their  dogs'  snuff- 
ing and  barking.  As  the  party  passed  I  could 
see  the  flutter  of  white  garments  in  the  patches 
of  the  moonlit  clearings. 

We  travelled  in  the  woods  with  no  other  inter- 
ruption, and  at  last,  near  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  came  out  on  the  edge  of  a  large  open- 
ing. 

"  See  dat  big  house  —  dar  ?  "  said  Mose. 

"Yes,  I  can  see  it." 


IX   THE  HANDS   OF  THE  ENEMY.        381 

"  Keep  awa'  fro'  dat ;  "  then  pointing  to  a  mud- 
cliinked  cabin  near  us,  said,  "  See  dat  li'l  cabin 
standin'  'lone  dar?  Ole  Sam  Marshal  lib  dar; 
get  near  dat  cabin  ;  wait  till  de  sun  do  rise,  den 
knock  at  de  do'  and  say  Mose  cum  to  put  me  wi' 
yo',  and  dat  I  hab  to  hurry  back  to  'tend  to  de 
quality  folks'  horses."  And  then  without  waiting 
for  my  thanks  Mose  disappeared  in  the  woods. 

Instead  of  obeying  the  old  man's  injunction  to 
get  near  the  cabin,  I  sat  watching  the  door  of  it 
with  my  back  against  a  tree,  despondently  and 
bitterly  communing  with  myself. 

The  next  thing  of  which  I  was  conscious  was 
the  sound  of  voices  and  the  tramp  of  feet. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  to  find  myself  among  a 
group  of  mounted  ladies  and  gentlemen,  whom  I 
afterwards  learned  were  just  returning  from  the 
party  mentioned  by  old  Mose,  and  had  surprised 
me  asleep. 

Among  the  group  I  recognized  the  young  Con- 
federate oiScer  I  had  met  at  the  Sibley  mansion. 
He  eyed  me  with  a  cold  and  curious  look  as  he 
said,  "  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  "  I  was  provoked  at 
being  so  stupid  as  to  allow  myself  to  be  captured 
in  so  unguarded  a  manner,  and  replied,  — 

I  am  Lieutenant  Clifton  of  the  — th  Illinois.  He 
then  said  with  more  gentleness  than  Iliad  thought 
possible  to  one  with  so  proud  a  face,  — 

"  You  wear  nothing  but  chevrons,  sir,  but  I  ac- 
cept your  word,  and  am  sorry  it  is  my  duty  to 


382  TOM  CLIFTON. 

hold  you  as  a  prisoner  of  war.  I  shall  ask  you 
to  give  me  your  parole  of  honor,  or  shall  I  put 
you  under  guard  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  accept  my  parole,  and 
I  will  not  attempt  to  escape  while  you  are  respon- 
sible for  me." 

We  went  forward  and  in  a  moment  more  were 
at  the  big  house  pointed  out  to  me  by  old  Mose, 
and,  to  my  agreeable  surprise,  I  found  it  to  be  the 
Sibley  mansion  from  which  I  had  escaped  so  long  ago. 

I  can  only  here  express  my  gratitude  for  the 
kindness  which  I,  an  enemy  and  "a  stranger  in 
a  strange  land,"  received  at  the  hands  of  these 
people.  I  am  the  more  grateful  when  I  contrast 
my  generous  treatment  there  with  the  horrible 
months  that  followed. 

In  talking  with  the  young  Confederate  officer,  I 
found  that  he  was  one  of  those  who  had  confronted 
us  at  Vicksburg,  and  was  not  unmindful  of  the 
great  kindness  which  he  there  received  as  a  prisoner- 
of-war.. 

On  arriving  at  the  Sibley  mansion,  I  was  allowed 
an  opportunity  of  making  myself  as  neat  as  pos- 
sible before  coming  in  contact  with  the  family. 
I  found  that,  notwithstanding  my  exj)eriences  in 
the  swamp,  my  uniform  was  in  very  tolerable  con- 
dition, and  when  I  was  brushed  that  I  was  quite 
presentable.  That  morning  I  breakfasted  with 
the  Confederate  officer,  and  later  took  my  dinner 
with  the  Sibley  family,  as  their  guest. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.         383 

It  showed  the  kindly  Southern  courtesy  of  this 
officer,  when,  at  one  time,  the  conversation  turning 
to  war  affairs,  he  checked  it  by  saying,  — 

"Do  not  forget,  gentlemen,  that  Mr.  Clifton 
cannot  properly  listen  to  your  discussion  without 
replying  to  your  sentiments,  and,  as  he  is  a  pris- 
oner on  parole,  he  is  at  a  disadvantage  among  you." 

I  thanked  the  lieutenant,  and  so  did  my  host 
and  his  family  —  not  by  words,  but  by  their  man- 
ner. During  the  day  Mr.  Sibley  said,  "  Your 
friends,  —  that  Irish  dare  devil "  (so  he  termed 
Matt)  "and  the  big  half-breed,  — ^  were  brought  here 
after  being  captured." 

I  inquired  if  they  had  been  hurt,  and  he  said 
they  had  not. 

"  Peter,  as  you  call  him,  looked  dangerous,  but 
the  Irishman  was  as  irrepressible  as  ever,  and  was 
not  in  the  least  cast  down,  though,"  said  the  doc- 
tor with  a  smile,  "  he  was  not  quite  as  noisy  as 
when  he  was  playing  Confederate  guard  over 
Yankee  prisoners." 

When  I  had  expressed  my  pleasure  that  no 
worse  fate  had  befallen  them,  the  doctor  said  with 
a  shake  of  his  head,  "  They  were  sent  to  Anderson- 
ville,  and  I  have  been  tOld  by  a  medical  friend  on 
duty  there  that  the  sanitary  condition  of  that 
prison  is  bad  —  horrible  —  that  the  death  rates  are 
simply  incredible." 

I  remained  at  the  Sibleys'  two  days  longer, 
almost  forgetting   that   I    was   a   prisoner-of-war, 


384  TOM  CLIFTON. 

but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  was  told  by  the 
lieutenant  that  he  was  to  turn  nie  over  to  a  guard 
coming  through  by  rail  with  prisoners  from 
Atlanta. 

I  left  the  home  of  the  Sibleys,  where  I  had  been 
so  kindly  treated,  and  as  I  shook  hands  and 
thanked  the  members  of  the  family,  it  seemed  to 
me  Miss  Marion's  hand  lingered  quite  willingly  in 
mine. 

That  afternoon  I  arrived  at  the  station  on  the 

Railroad,  was  turned  over  to  the   officer  in 

charge  of  the  Yankee  prisoners,  was  crowded  into  a 
filthy  box  car,  with  some  fifty  other  privates  and  non- 
commissioned officers,  for  my  rank  was  here  judged 
by  my  uniform  and  not  by  what  I  said. 

The  next  morning  we  arrived  at  Macon,  were 
fed  with  heavy,  unpalatable  corn-bread,  and  later 
were  switched  into  a  road  at  right  angles  with  the 
one  we  had  been  travelling  and  that  ran  almost  in 
an  easterly  direction. 

I  learned  for  the  first  time  since  my  capture  in 
July  of  the  military  situation  since  the  capture 
of  Atlanta  —  that  all  of  its  buildings  and  stores 
of  a  public  nature  had  been  demolished ;  that 
the  Etowah  Railroad  was  ordered  destroyed,  and 
that  wrecked  engines,  bent  and  twisted  rails, 
and  lonesome  chimneys  and  ruins  were  quite 
common,  and  saddening  to  the  hearts  of  the 
chivalry. 

"  They  say,"  says   one,   "  that   Uncle    Billy  is 


IN   THE  HANDS   OF  THE  ENEMY.         385 

going  to  make  every  family  there  move  out,  so  if 
Hood  gets  possession  again,  he  won't  get  anything 
worth  a  cent." 

Among  those  in  the  box-car  in  which  I  was 
phxcecl  was  a  little  drummer,  very  quiet  and  sweet- 
faced,  whom  they  called  "  Bob."  He  seemed  to 
shrink  from  the  rude  familiarity  of  the  other  pris- 
oners. Along  towards  evening  I  found  him  snug- 
gled next  to  me  for  protection.  We  became 
friendly  at  once.  He  told  me  he  belonged  to  a 
Massachusetts  regiment,  and  that  only  two  others 
of  his  regiment  were  captured  at  the  time  he  was. 

We  crossed  a  long  trestle-work  when  near 
Charleston  and  emerged  into  a  country  where  on 
either  side  were  lonely  looking  trees,  festooned  with 
drapery-like  moss,  clinging  to  the  top  branches 
and  swinging  in  the  breeze  as  if,  as  little  Bob 
said,  they  were  mourning  for  the  Confederacy. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  next  day  that  the  cars  stopped,  and  we  dis- 
covered that  we  were  near  the  water  front  of 
Charleston,  S.C. 

Evidences  of  the  bombardment  from  our  batter- 
ies down  the  harbor  could  be  seen  as  we  marched 
through  the  streets.  Here  an  irregular  hole  in 
the  side  or  end  of  a  brick  edifice,  —  the  corner  of 
a  building  knocked  away, — or  the  blackened  re- 
mains of  those  ignited  by  our  shells. 

We  heard  the  explosion  of  shells  above  the  city 
as  we  marched  along,  and  the  occasional  dull  report 


386  TOM  CLIFTON. 

of  heavy  guns,  three  or  four  miles  distant,  from 
whence  these  missiles  came.  I  noticed  that  shoots 
of  grass  were  growing  up  around  the  paving-stones 
in  the  streets. 

The  people  on  the  sidewalks  and  at  the  open 
windows  spoke  kindly,  and  gave  some  of  our  num- 
ber cigars  and  cakes.  Most  of  them  appeared  to 
be  German  Jews. 

The  fall  of  Atlanta  had  compelled  the  hasty  re- 
moval of  most  of  the  prisoners  from  Andersonville 
and  their  distribution  to  other  points  in  the  South, 
where  they  would  be  safe  from  Sherman's  clutches. 
Among  the  prison  camps  established  for  this  pur- 
pose was  one  in  the  rear  of  Charleston.  To  this 
we  were  consigned. 

At  the  time  of  my  arrival,  September  25th,  there 
were  about  five  thousand  prisoners  at  this  place, 
known  as  the  "  race  course,"  or  "  fair-ground,"  in 
the  rear  and  west  of  the  city. 

The  fair-ground,  comprising  about  forty  acres  of 
level  land,  was  surrounded  by  dense  foliage,  and, 
when  seen  under  favorable  circumstances,  was 
no  doubt  a  beautiful  spot.  Seen  by  a  prisoner  it 
looked  very  uninviting. 

The  area  where  the  prisoners  were  encamped 
was  marked  by  an  ordinary  plough  furrow  and  sur- 
rounded by  sentinels,  while  outside  of  these  were 
several  batteries  of  light  field-pieces,  to  mow  down 
the  prisoners  at  the  slightest  exhibition  of  insur- 
rection. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.         387 

Filthy  huts,  about  knee  high,  made  from  shreds 
of  clothing  and  soldiers'  dirty  blankets,  crowded 
this  area  in  an  indescribable  jumble.  A  terrible 
stench  emanated  from  this  squalid  place. 

With  little  Bob  by  my  side,  and  with  my  blan- 
ket and  baggage  over  my  shoulders,  I  walked  the 
narrow,  crooked  paths  among  the  mass  of  wretched 
men  who,  recognizing  me  as  a  new  prisoner, 
crowded  around  to  inquire  the  news,  or  invite 
trade. 

Famine  looked  out  from  their  lustreless  eyes. 
Such  hopelessness  and  wretchedness  were  stamped 
upon  their  skeleton-like  forms,  trembling,  groping 
hands,  their  dry  and  parched  lips,  and  dirtrclotted 
faces,  as  if  they  were  blasted  with  some  terrible 
fungus  of  disease. 

Their  garments  and  persons  were  infested  with 
vermin,  their  dirt-stained  faces  made  hard  by  suffer- 
ing had  in  them  something  indescribably  plaintive. 

I  observed  that  when  they  reached  out  their 
hands  to  take  some  article  offered  them,  their  arms 
described  a  curved  line,  as  if  they  were  too  heavy 
to  be  put  out  straight  from  the  shoulder. 

Bare-footed,  hair-matted,  famine-stricken  as  they 
were,  they  were  as  eager  in  their  inquiries  for  news 
of  the  army  at  the  front  as  for  food.  In  voices 
high-pitched  and  tremulous  with  weakness,  they 
inquired  the  news  from  Grant  and  Sherman;  but 
I  could  give  them  none  tliey  had  not  already  heard, 
for  this  they  got  from  fresh  captives  coming    in 


388  TOM  CLIFTON. 

from  our  armies  nearly  every  day.  A  sense  of  in- 
describable dread  and  loneliness  came  over  me  at 
the  thought  that  I  had  not  one  single  acquaint- 
ance, except  little  Bob,  among  all  this  throng  of 
miserable  beings. 

We  moved  in  and  out  among  the  jumble  of 
squalid  huts,  seeking  a  place  where  we  could  camp. 
The  difficulty  of  doing  this  was  increased  by  the 
frequency  of  little  shallow  wells,  eight  or  ten  feet 
deep,  which  had  been  dug  by  the  prisoners  near 
almost  every  hut. 

"What  makes  you  have  so  many  wells?"  I  in- 
quired of  one  into  whose  well  I  had  nearly  stum- 
bled. "  When  we  get  something  good  here  and 
can  get  enough  of  it,  we  just  take  it.  Now,  at  Camp 
Sumter  " — here  to  my  surprise  the  prisoner  threw 
back  the  rim  of  a  ragged  soft  hat,  jumped  from 
the  ground,  rushed  forward  with  extended  arms, 
and  began  to  cry  in  whimpering  tones,  "  Tom ! 
Tom !  " 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  inquired. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  me  ?  Don't  you  know 
Sam  Ryder?" 

It  Avas  indeed  Sam,  but  so  changed  that  I  might 
have  passed  him  a  dozen  times  without  recogniz- 
ing him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  I  inquired,  after  the  first  sal- 
utations were  over,  "anything  about  Matt  and 
Peter?" 

"  Yes ;  they  started   from  Andersonville   in  the 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.         389 

same  detachment  with  me,  —  they  must  be  on  this 
starvation  lot  somewhere  ;  but  this  phxce  ain't  so 
bad ;  it's  high  up  alongside  of  Anderson ville  !  " 

Seeing  my  incredulity,  he  said,  "  Well,  't  is  tough 
for  a  new  beginner  at  this  boardin'-house  to  be- 
lieve, but  that  place  was  a  hell  on  earth  and  noth- 
ing short  of  it.  'Bout  all  them  fellers  captured 
at  Kenesaw  Mountain  are  dead  'cept  Jim.  You 
remember  Jim  Fowler.  Say,  Jim !  "  calling  out 
to  a  picturesque  collection  of  dirt  and  rags  that 
had  just  hove  in  sight,  "  come  here.  Do  you 
know  this  fellow  that  looks  as  if  he  had  come  out 
of  a  bandbox?" 

Jim  looked  at  me  from  the  sunken  sockets  of 
his  eyes,  toddled  forward,  and  said  in  high-pitched, 
trembling  tones,  unlike  the  manly  ones  I'd  for- 
merly known  as  Jim's,  "  Yes ;  it's  orderly  Tom, 
I  reckon ! "  Then,  with  something  like  his  old 
humor,  "Have  some  supper  with  us,  will  yer? 
"  Can't  give  you  much  of  a  spread,  Sergeant  Tom. 
They've  been  feedin'  us  for  shadders  and  not  for  a 
cattle  show,  by  a  long  sight,"  said  Jim,  looking  at 
me  so  piteously  that,  do  all  I  could  to  restrain 
them,  tears  came  to  my  eyes. 

"  We  get  some  wood  hyer,  and  that's  more  than 
we  got  at  Andersonville,  and  we  get  a  sniff  of 
decently  cool  air,  but  you  couldn't  get  a  sniff  of 
that  there." 

"  I  guess  I'll  look  up  Peter  and  Matt  and  camp 
with  them,"  I  said. 


090  TOM  CLIFTON: 

Sam  laughed  at  the  idea.  "  Why,  Tom,"  said  he, 
"  they'll  be  as  hard  to  find  as  a  needle  in  a  haystack, 
and  you'd  better  take  a  good  look  at  this  place  be- 
fore you  leave  it,  so  as  to  find  it  again ;  but  what's 
yer  hurry?     Camp  right  down  side  of  us  here." 

So  Bob  and  I  spread  our  blankets  by  the  side  of 
Jim  and  Sam. 

When  rations  were  issued  that  evening  I  got 
myself  put  into  the  second  hundred  of  the  third 
thousand,  and  drew  rations  with  Sam. 

I  got  for  my  day's  ration  about  two  spoonfuls 
of  hominy,  three  of  rice,  four  of  beans,  and  four  of 
wheat  flour,  and  as  much  for  Bob. 

I  put  in  my  stock  of  comforts  with  Sam  and  Jim, 
and  derived  as  much  benefit  from  this  arrangement 
as  they  did. 

The  next  morning  when  I  produced  my  little 
long-handled  fry  pan  to  cook  my  johnny-cake, 
both  Sam  and  Jim  actually  jumped  with  delight 
at  the  prospect  of  borrowing  it. 

"Why,"  laughed  Sam,  "yo'd  a  lost  that  and 
your  whole  kit  before  this  if  yer  hadn't  sort  of 
providentially  met  me.  These  hungry  fellers  are 
awfully  absent-minded.  They'd  walk  away  with 
the  big  dipper,  north  star  and  all ;  yes,  the  great 
ba'r,  too,  if  they  could  get  him  ;  they'd  eat  him 
raw,  too,  ef  he  was  anyways  eatable." 

That  day  the  boys  told  me,  in  disconnected  sen- 
tences, about  Andersonville,  and  how  our  brave 
boys  captured  at  Kenesaw  had  perished  there. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.         391 

"  They  are  about  all  dead,"  said  Jim  mourn- 
fully, "  and  I  guess  the  squad  sergeant  has  got  a 
paper  marked  for  me." 

"  Oh,  don't,  Jim !  "  said  Sam ;  "  it  ain't  no  use 
ter  borrow  trouble." 

In  reply  to  my  inquiry,  Sam  told  me  that  at 
Andersonville  the  sergeant  of  a  squad  pinned  to 
the  breast  of  each  dead  man  a  piece  of  paper 
marked  with  the  name  of  the  man  and  sometimes, 
in  anticipation  of  death  of  members  of  his  squad, 
he  made  them  out  in  advance. 

That  morning,  after  breakfast,  I  went  over  the 
camp  very  confident  of  finding  Peter  and  Matt, 
and  came  back  discouraged. 

"  Better  sit  right  still,"  said  Sam,  "  and  wait  for 
'em  ter  to  come  'round.  You  will  hit  on  'em  by 
accident  before  you  do  by  looking  yer  eyes  out." 

So  I  took  Sam's  advice  and  tried  to  make  my- 
self comfortable,  and  settled  down  to  the  common 
lot  of  Union  prisoners  at  Charleston,  which  stead- 
ily became  worse  and  worse  each  day. 


392  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

CHARLESTON   FAIR-GROUND. 

One  morning,  about  a  week  after  the  events 
narrated  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  upon  looking 
over  the  camp  once  more  (for  I  had  not  given  up 
trying  to  find  Matt  and  Peter),  I  returned  to  our 
mess  discouraged. 

I  found  Sam  doubled  up  over  a  little  fire,  cook- 
ing mush,  while  "  little  Bob  "  was  on  his  hands 
and  knees  blowing  the  fire  to  keep  it  blazing. 

"  That  little  fellow,"  said  Sam,  "  ain't  got  breath 
enough  in  him  to  make  a  blaze.  See  here  !  Tom, 
you  hold  the  mush-dish  and  I'll  blow.  Get  out, 
Bob,  and  see  me  do  it !  " 

"  Where's  Jim  Fowler  ?  "  I  inquired,  noticing 
that  he  was  not  present  as  usual  when  any  cook- 
ing was  to  be  done. 

"  Well,  "  said  Sam,  choking  with  smoke,"  Jim 
ain't  dead,  but  he  has  kinder  gin  out." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  Sam,  sitting  up  and  snif- 
fling, "  I'll  tell  yer  how  'tis,  Tom,  when  a  man  has 
got  the  scurvy,  he's  got  most  everything  else  in 
the  shape  of  disease.     If  he's  got  a  weak  spot,  or 


CHARLESTON  FAIR-GROUND.  393 

ever  had,  for  instance,  weak  lungs  or  sore  throat, 
it  seems  to  bring  out  the  old  disease,  and  yer  can 
doctor  it  till  doomsday  ;  't  won't  do  a  speck  of  good 
— ■  till  he  gets  something  for  the  scurvy ;  then 
't  will  leave  as  if  't  was  kicked  eout." 

"  What's  good  for  the  scurvy  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,"  said  Sara  with  a  grin,  accompanied  by 
a  snuffle  produced  by  the  smoke,  "lemons  and 
limes  and  potatoes  and  mutton-chops  air  good,  but 
I  suppose  I  might  as  well  say  gold  dollars,  for 
they  ain't  any  harder  to  git." 

"  Can't  we  buy  some  lemons  or  potatoes  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  we  had  money,  but "  —  here  Sam  got  on 
his  knees  again  and  began  blowing  the  fire,  saying 
in  parenthesis,  "  if  potatoes  were  selling  at  a  cent 
a  bushel,  we  couldn't  buy  a  spud." 

"  Can't  you  buy  them  with  these  greenbacks?  "  I 
inquired,  taking  a  small  roll  of  them  from  my 
pocket.  Sam  resumed  a  sitting  position  as  if  he 
had  a  spring  in  his  back,  like  a  jack-knife,  ex- 
citedly exclaiming,  "  Man  alive  !  of  course,  it's  the 
only  thing  you  can  get  them  with  :  they're  next  to 
gold.  Jerusalem !  Why  didn't  yer  let  on  before  ? 
How  much  is  there?  " 

"About  fifty  dollars,"  I  replied,  passing  him 
the  money. 

Sam  counted  it  and  corrected  me  by  saying, 
"  Just  fifty-tew  dollars  and  this  small  stuff,"  and, 
passing  back  all  but  a  ten-dollar  bill  and  some 
fractional  currency,  said,  "  I'll  get  something  ter 
eat  neow  rite  off,  if  yer  say  so  ?  " 


394  TOM  CLTFTON. 

I  nodded  my  assent,  and  Sam  gave  a  hitch  to 
the  waistband  of  his  trousers,  drew  in  his  breath 
with  a  snuffle,  as  if  to  settle  the  smoke  he'd  swal- 
lowed, and  started  out. 

He  soon  returned,  happy  in  the  possession  of  a 
dozen  Irish  potatoes,  four  onions,  and  two  wheat 
biscuit,  which  he  had  procured  at  the  rebel  sutler's. 

He  gave  Jim  some  potato  to  eat  raw ;  but  poor 
Jim's  mouth  was  swollen,  and  his  gums  so  sore 
that  he  declared  he  couldn't  chew. 

He  swallowed  some  soup  that  Sam  made,  how- 
ever, and  also  some  raw  scraped  potato,  but  said, 
"  I  reckon  'tain't  much  use,  but  you  boys  ar'  right 
good  ter  me,  I'll  'low.  It  looks  right  good  to  see 
that,"  pointing  to  the  cloud  of  a  shell  that  just 
then  broke  over  the  spire  of  a  church.  "  It's  sort 
of  a  comfort  to  know  that  our  boys  down  the  har- 
bor are  just  a-gettin'  at  these  rebs,  if  a  fellow  can't 
ever  fight  any  more." 

The  next  afternoon  Sam  said,  "  Tom,  Jim  wants 
ter  see  yer,"  so  I  crawled  into  the  squalid  hut  we 
occupied  in  common  for  sleeping,  and  said,  "  What 
is  it,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Orderly,  I  don't  believe,"  said  he  mournfully, 
"  I'm  a-goin'  ter  pull  through  this  heat." 

"  Keep  up  courage,"  I  said :  "  you'll  come  out  all 
right  and  live  to  see  your  wife  and  boys  you've 
told  me  about." 

Jim  looked  at  me  mournfully  from  out  of  the 
sunken  sockets  of   his  eyes,  and   replied   in   the 


CHARLESTON  FAIR-GROUND.  395 

dreary,  far-away  tones  of  a  famished  man,  "I 
could  live  to  get  out  o'  the  hands  of  an}^  savages 
but  these.  See  here,"  and  he  showed  me  the  mag- 
gots crawling  from  his  very  flesh.  Then,  after  a 
while,  he  said,  "  Say,  orderly,  if  you  ever  get  out 
of  this,  tell  my  boys  that  I  had  a  chance  at  Ander- 
sonville  to  go  out  and  work  and  save  my  life  but 
would  n't. 

"  Tell  'em  I  loved  the  Union,  that  I  hated  what 
these  rebs  loved,  and  I  loved  what  they  hated  so 
much  that  perhaps  God  will  forgive  tiie  rest.  It's 
pretty  good  r'ligion  for  a  or'nary  man." 

Later  in  the  day,  when  I  visited  him,  he  said 
faintly,  "  Mother  used  to  teach  me  a  prayer,  when 
I  was  a  little  chap,  'fore  she  died,  and,  —  I'll  try 
and  pray  it  now ; "  then,  clasping  his  hands  above 
his  breast,  he  said  faintly,  "  '  Now  I  lay  me  down 
to  sleep  —  I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep.  —  If  I 
should  die '  " —  A  gasp,  and  poor  Jim's  prayer 
was  ended.  He  breathed  heavily  once  or  twice 
and  was  dead.  He  was  one  of  the  bravest  and 
most  faithful  of  our  boys.  I  pray  fervently  that 
God  his  soul  "  may  keep,"  for  it  was  worthy  of  his 
great,  all-embracing  love. 

The  rations  grew  steadily  less  and  less  in  quan- 
tity, the  supply  of  wood  began  to  fall  short,  and  at 
last  for  two  days  no  rations  at  all  were  issued  to 
the  camp  of  half-starved  prisoners. 

On  the  last  of  these  days  it  was  rumored  around 
camp  that  food  was  to  be  given  out. 


396  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Leaving  Sam  on  guard  over  our  quarters,  I  went 
with  Bob  to  the  south-west  end  of  the  camp,  where 
the  rations  were  usually  issued. 
'  After  some  time  spent  in  waiting,  an  officer  rode 
up  here  and,  commanding  attention,  said,  "We 
want  some  men  to  work  down  on  the  islands  in 
the  harbor.  It  is  work  you've  all  been  accustomed 
to.  We  will  give  those  who  go  out  to  do  this 
work  rations  of  vegetables,  meat,  flour,  beans,  rice, 
and  all  the  tobacco  and  whiskey  they  want.  None 
of  you  will  b«  compelled  to  go,  but  all  who  accept 
this  offer  will  be  made  to  do  the  work  whether  they 
like  it  or  not.  All  those  who  wish  to  go  will  come 
to  this  place  after  dark,  and  we'll  take  care  of  them. 
Who  will  go  ?  " 

"I !  "  "  I !  "  "  I !  "  came  the  answer  from  trembling 
lips  down  which  the  saliva  ran  at  the  very  mention 
of  fresh  meat  and  vegetables. 

A  voice  in  the  crowd  of  prisoners  exclaimed, 
"  Men,  hunger  has  made  you  crazy !  You  for- 
get the  old  flag  !  Listen  to  me  a  moment !  "  and, 
clambering  on  an  empty  rice-cask,  a  soldier  in  the 
tattered  remains  of  a  gray  suit  that  looked  suspici- 
ously as  if  it  had  once  been  a  rebel  uniform,  began 
to  speak  :  "  Comrades  !  this  Confederate  officer  has 
told  you  what  he  wants  you  for.  If  you  don't  un- 
derstand, I'll  tell  you.  He  wants  you,  who  have 
fought  for  the  old  flag,  to  dig  rifle-pits,  behind 
which  rebels  to  that  flag  may  shield  themselves 
from  the  shot  of  our  guns  down  there  !     It  may 


CHARLESTON  FAIR-GROUND.  397 

be  square  for  him  to  make  this  proposition,  but  it 
is  treason  for  you  to  accept  it.  After  fighting  and 
suffering  for  the  Union,  who  is  there  here  that  will 
use  spades  or  muskets  for  their  rotten  Confederacy? 
Who  is  there  here  with  a  soul  so  small  that  he 
will  not  rot  in  Charleston  rather  than  lift  his  hand 
against  the  old  flag?  Who  can  look  an  honest  man, 
or  your  father,  or  mother,  in  the  face,  after  being  a 
traitor?  Let  them  starve  you,  men,  that's  their 
business.     Yield  and  you  are  cowards." 

"  Go  on  !  Go  on  !  It's  the  right  kind  of  talk  ! 
Go  on  !  "  came  the  shout  from  starving  lips  that 
but  a  moment  before  were  clamoring  to  go  out. 

"  Bully  for  you.  Matt !  "  I  shouted,  for  before 
this  I  had  discovered  that  it  was  Matt  Ryan.  As 
he  turned  I  called  again  to  him.  His  eyes  met 
mine,  and  it  was  ludicrous  rather  than  heroic  to  see 
him  scramble  down  from  the  rice-cask,  excitedly 
exclaiming,  "  Tom  !  —  Tom  Clifton  !  by  all  the 
powers !  where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

By  this  time  others  among  the  prisoners  had 
caught  the  spirit  communicated  by  Matt's  elo- 
quent words  and  had  begun  speaking. 

Matt  was  shaking  hands  with  me  when  Bob, 
by  my  side,  began  to  cry.  "Who  is  this  little 
squealer,"  said  Matt. 

"  I  wanted  to  go  out,"  cried  Bob ;  "  but  I  could 
never  have  looked  my  mother  in  the  face  again  if 
I  had." 

"  Oh,  hush  up  !  that's  all  right.     I  wanted  to  go 


898  TOM  CLIFTON. 

myself,"  said  Matt,  putting  his  ragged  arm  around 
the  boy's  neck;  "  it's  all  right ;  shut  up  !  " 

"  Where's  Peter  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  At  home,  cooking." 

"  Home,"  in  its  application  here,  struck  me  as  an 
outrageous  travesty  on  the  real  thing,  but  it  was 
an  expression  often  heard. 

I  was  soon  shaking  hands  with  dear  old  Peter, 
but  how  thin,  hollow-eyed,  and  ragged  he  was  ! 

Matt's  declaration  that  he  had  "  only  an  outline 
map  of  a  suit,"  applied  also  to  Peter's  clothing. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Peter  ?  You  look  down  in 
the  mouth." 

"  Takes  more  grub  fill  me  dan  Matt,"  was  Peter's 
reply. 

After  the  meeting  Peter,  Sam,  Matt,  Bob,  and 
myself  agreed  to  mess  together  and  help  each 
other  fight  disease  and  death.  It  was  agreed  that 
each  one  of  us  should  bathe  all  over  each  day,  and 
that  in  the  division  of  food  Peter  should  have  a 
little  the  biggest  share. 

We  first  constructed  a  larger  and  more  comfort- 
able hut,  and  to  one  of  us  each  day  was  assigned 
the  duty  of  airing  it  and  making  the  interior 
orderly,  clean,  and  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

My  money  was  mostly  gone,  but  I  was  able  at 
first  to  purchase  a  little  vegetable  food  for  Peter, 
and  he  seemed  for  a  time  to  gain  in  health  and 
strength ;  but,  like  the  great  mass  of  prisoners,  he 
had  been  starved  and  confined  to  the  foul  air  of  a 


CHARLESTON  FAIR-GROUND.  399 

fetid  prison  camp  so  long,  that  nothing  short  of  a 
radical  change  could  benefit  him. 

His  limbs  were  bloated  with  scurvy,  and  he  be- 
gan to  grow  worse  when  he  was  no  longer  able  to 
obtain  nutritious  food. 

"  No  good ;  take  me  hospital,"  said  Peter. 

The  word  "  hospital"  had  always  been  asso- 
ciated in  my  mind  with  kindness,  generous  food, 
and  good  care,  and  I  at  once  said,  — 

"  Why  didn't  I  think  of  it  before  ?  It's  just  the 
thing  I" 

Matt  grinned  sarcastically,  and  said,  "  Guess  you 
never  was  in  a  rebel  hospital,  Tom." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Just  out  here,  north  from  the  prison,"  said 
Matt.  "  Come,  I'll  show  you  ;  "  and  so  I  went  out 
with  him  and  from  the  prison  camp  could  see  a 
collection  of  huts  similar  in  appearance,  though 
the  camp  was  smaller  than  the  prison  camp. 

"  Perhaps  it's  like  a  singed  cat,"  I  suggested, 
"  better  than  it  looks." 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  Matt,  "we  might  take  Peter 
out  there  and  get  him  some  medicine.  You  know 
they  won't  prescribe  or  give  out  any  for  a  sick 
man  unless  he  is  carried  to  'em." 

So  we  concluded  to  take  him  out,  see  for  our- 
selves what  kind  of  a  place  it  was,  and,  at  least, 
get  the  medicine  for  him. 

He  was  not  too  sick  to  walk,  but  to  impress  the 
prison  authorities  Matt  and  I  walked  on  each  side 
of  him. 


400  TOM  CLIFTON. 

I  found  the  hospital  squalid  beyond  description,- 
the  place  did  not  contain  a  single  tent,  the  only 
shelter  being  blankets.  The  inmates  were  more 
destitute  of  these  than  even  ordinary  prisoners. 

We  passed  along  the  stenching,  polluted  thor- 
oughfares, my  courage  and  hojDC  oozing  away  at 
every  step,  until  we  met  the  crowd  of  miserables 
around  the  surgeon's  booth. 

Here  were  terrible  cases  of  gangrene  (produced 
by  long  exposure  to  the  poisonous  prison  air), 
which  had  rendered  the  blood  impure,  so  that  the 
slighest  abrasion  of  the  skin  had  become  a  putrid 
sore ;  and  these,  on  removal  of  the  foul  shreds  of 
woollen  cloth,  revealed  the  flesh  falling  from  the 
bones,  where  among  naked  cords  and  ligaments 
maggots  held  a  premature  feast. 

Other  poor  creatures,  once  brave  and  manly, 
now  weakened  in  intellect,  with  faded  eyes  in 
hollow  sockets,  their  hands  and  naked  feet  covered 
with  filth  and  dirt,  their  foul  rags  hanging  in 
tatters,  their  voices,  once  strong  and  manly,  now 
an  inarticulate  whine,  the  skin  clinging  tightly  to 
the  bones  from  which  the  flesh  had  wasted  away, 
presented  a  terrible  sight. 

I  cannot  describe  the  horrible  scenes  I  saw, — lan- 
guage is  too  feeble,  —  and  I  would  not  if  I  could. 
They  can  only  be  comprehended,  as  inaccessible 
heights  are  measured,  by  the  awful  shadoAvs  which 
they  project  —  by  the  accumulative  testimony  com- 
ing from  the  survivors  of  these  scenes. 


CHARLESTON  FAIR-GROUND.  401 

We  reached  the  surgeon  after  passing  through 
this  crowd.  That  officer  gave  one  look  at  poor 
Peter,  then  hardly  able  to  stand,  and  exclaimed 
angrily,  "What  do  you  bring  this  marU  here  for?  " 

"  He's  sick,"  I  said.  "  Will  you  not  give  him 
medicine  ?  " 

"  We  don't  doctor  men  who  can  walk  around." 

"  No,"  I  indignantly  replied,  "  it  seems  not ;  you 
endeavor  to  save  only  when  there  is  no  hope." 

The  surgeon,  as  if  struck  by  the  remark,  gave 
another  look  at  Peter,  and  then  again  looking  me 
steadily  in  the  face  said,  in  an  expressive  undertone, 
"  The  best  medicine  for  him  and  all  these  wretches  is 
food.  Here  are  some  camphor  pills.  Take  him 
away ! " 

We  were  glad  to  escape.  It  was  no  place, 
as  Matt  said,  for  either  a  sick  or  well  man.  We 
carried  Peter  back  again,  and  he  lay  down  in  our 
hut  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  saying,  "  Better  place  die 
in  here." 

But  he  did  not  die. 

I  had  pondered  on  the  remark  of  the  rebel  sur- 
geon, "  The  best  medicine  is  food."  I  had  a  gold 
watch,  of  fine  workmanship,  which  had  been  given 
me  by  my  uncle  John,  and  I  knew  I  could  trade  it 
for  more  Confederate  money  than  I  could  carry 
with  Peter's  portage  straps,  and  I  then  determined 
to  sell  it  and  get  nourishing  food  for  him. 

The  Sisters  of  Charity  had  begun  at  this  time  to 
come  into  the  prison,  doing  errands  for  the  prison- 


402  TOM  CLIFTON. 

ers,  performing  offices  of  mercy  for  almost  naked 
creatures,  without  ever  inquiring  their  creed,  or 
expecting  reward.  I  called  the  attention  of  one  of 
these  to  Peter,  and  proposed  that  she  should  sell 
the  watch  and  bring  us  the  money. 

The  next  day  she  returned  it,  saying  that  she 
could  not  find  any  one  with  enough  spare  money 
to  buy  it  at  its  proper  price. 

"  What  is  its  proper  price  ?  " 

"Five  thousand  dollars  in  Confederate  money,  or 
a  hundred  and  seventy  or  two  hundred  in  gold," 
was  her  reply. 

"How  much,"  I  inquired,  "did  they  offer  for 
it?" 

"  Two  thousand  dollars  in  Confederate  money," 
she  replied.  "  If  I  get  another  offer,  I'll  let  you 
know." 

That  day,  while  near  the  sentinels,  an  officer 
passed,  and  I  asked  him  if  he  would  hand  me  a 
stick  of  cord-wood  which  lay  just  outside  the  guard- 
line,  and  he  complied  witli  my  request.  I  thanked 
him,  and  he  was  about  to  pass  along,  when  I 
detained  him  by  inquiring  if  he  would  like  to  buy 
a  fine  watch. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  he  replied.  I  passed  it  over  to 
him.  He  examined  it  and  said,  "  It  is  a  beautiful 
watch.  What's  the  price?"  I  told  him.  "I'll  take 
the  watch,"  he  said.  "  What  do  you  want  to  buy 
with  the  money  ?  " 

"Food." 


CHARLESTON  FAIR-GROUND.  403 

"  I  can  give  you  part  money  and  part  orders  on 
the  sutler,  if  you  prefer.  I  am  in  command  of  this 
camp,  and  I  will  see,  if  you  should  leave  here,  that 
your  orders  shall  be  good  wherever  you  go." 

So  we  traded,  and  the  arrangement  proposed  by 
the  colonel  proved  to  be  an  unusually  fair  one. 

Under  good  and  abundant  vegetable  and  meat 
diet  Peter  improved  daily,  and  in  three  weeks  was 
quite  vigorous  once  more. 

From  this  incident  I  drew  the  inference,  which 
I  believe  is  a  correct  one,  that  scurvy  is  but  another 
form  of  starvation. 

In  October  it  was  rumored  that  the  yellow-fever 
had  made  its  appearance  in  Charleston,  and  dur- 
ing the  excitement  caused  by  this  rumor,  the  order 
came  for  our  removal. 

A  detachment  was  sent  away  next  day,  and 
about  two  thousand  thereafter  daily  until  there 
were  but  few  remaining  in  camp. 

At  last  we  got  the  order  for  our  removal,  and 
Avere  packed  on  board  of  box-cars,  en  route  for  we 
knew  not  where.  As  we  left  Charleston  we  saw 
also  leaving  the  city  a  train-load  of  our  officers, 
who  shouted  to  some  of  the  men  they  were 
acquainted  with,  on  board  of  our  car. 

At  some  of  the  switch-oif  tracks  near  the  city 
we  noticed  families  living  in  cars  which  were  car- 
peted, and  in  some  instances  there  were  carved 
bedsteads,  and  in  one  instance  a  grand  piano,  which 
led  me  to  the  inference  that  it  was  not  entirely  the 


404  TOM  CLIPTON. 

"  low  down  "  or  poor  whites  who  were  living  in 
them. 

Peter  and  little  Bob  had  become  great  friends, 
and  it  was  beautiful  to  see  Bob  take  refuge  with 
the  big  half-breed  when  roughly  spoken  to  or  rudely 
jostled. 

During  our  first  day's  journey  I  found  Peter 
holding  Bob  in  his  arms. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Peter  ?  " 

"  He  got  pain  here,"  said  Peter,  pointing  to  his 
throat.     I  thouorht  no  more  of  it  till  later. 


FLORENCE  PRISON.  405 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

FLORENCE   PRISON. 

There  was  a  creaking  and  outcry  from  the 
brakes,  a  sudden  clang  and  jolt,  when,  at  midnight, 
the  train  halted.  Many  of  us  who  were  still  asleep 
were  after  tliis  awakened  and  ordered  off  the  cars. 
The  rain  was  pouring  in  torrents. 

"  Bad  place  sick  little  boy,"  I  heard  Peter  say 
as  we  stood  in  the  drenching  rain,  where  we  could 
not  see  a  hand  before  us,  it  was  so  dark. 

Those  who  had  constituted  our  mess  at  Charles- 
ton kept  close  together  as  we  left  the  cars,  and 
I  inferred  from  an  occasional  word  that  passed  be- 
tween them  that  Peter  was  carrying  Bob  in  his 
arms. 

After  a  half-hour  of  stumbling  forward  for  short 
distances,  and  then  stopping,  and  then  going  for- 
ward again,  we  at  last  halted  and  lay  down  to- 
gether in  the  mud.  The  ground  was  miry  and 
covered  with  hubbies  of  a  cornfield. 

Little  Bob  lay  down  between  Peter  and  myself, 
in  the  rain,  which  poured  down  throughout  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  in  uninterrupted  fury. 

In  the  night  I  heard  Peter  say,  "  What  matter, 


406  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Bobby?"  and  once  I  felt  Bob  clutch  my  shoul- 
der. I  thought  nothing  of  it  till  morning  dawned, 
when  the  little  fellow  was  found  dead  by  my 
side. 

Peter  was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  his  little  friend, 
silently  tellingh  is  beads,  as  if  that  was  the  only 
thing  he  could  think  to  do  for  the  dead  boy. 

I  went  to  the  officer  of  the  guard  and  said,  "  We 
want  permission  to  bury  a  boy  who  died  last  night." 

"Don't  distress  yourself,  Yank.  We'll  bury 
him.'' 

"  But  we  want  to  know  where  he  is  buried. 
Can't  we  bury  him  so  as  to  send  word  to  his 
mother  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  not." 

"  Just  think  of  your  own  little  boy  dying  in 
a  strange  land,  and  you  not  know  where  he  was 
buried." 

"  Haven't  got  none  ;  boy  no  business  here." 
.  "  But  the  little  fellow  is  only  a  child !  "     The 
officer  sat  stolidly,  without  deigning  a  reply. 

There  was  no  redress  ;  no  appeal.  I  went  back 
to  the  boys  and  told  them. 

Peter  made  no  remark,  but  covered  the  little  fel- 
low's face  with  his  tattered  handkerchief.  On  a 
piece  of  paper  Matt  wrote  his  name,  rank,  regi- 
ment, company,  and  age,  and  pinned  it  to  his  breast, 
with  the  request  that  those  who  buried  him  would 
mark  the  gi-ave. 

Then  we  all  knelt  silently,  praying,  each  after 


FLORENCE  PRISON.  407 

his  own  fashion,  to  the  same  merciful  Father  and 
Son,  for  the  brave  little  Union  soldier  who  died  in 
this  dreary  place,  away  from  his  mother's  arms. 

Before  we  marched  away  I  folded  his  frail  brown 
hands  over  the  New  Testament  which  was  found  in 
his  pocket.  On  it  were  written  the  words,  "  From 
mother  to  Robert,"  —  that  mother  who  would  see 
her  boy  no  more  until  the  glory  of  a  brighter 
morning  should  bring  them  together.  Alas,  how 
many  who  entered  the  prison  that  day  found  their 
final  resting-places  where  the  tall,  weird,  southern 
pines  still  whisper  their  requiem  ! 

We  marched  eastward  a  half-mile,  when  a  stock- 
ade of  pine  logs  loomed  up  before  us.  The  great 
gate  creaked  querulously,  yawned,  and  closed  on  us. 

Wretched  men  gathered  around  us  to  inquire  the 
news.  With  very  few  exceptions  the  prisoners  we 
met  had  come  from  Andersonville. 

The  enclosure  which  marked  the  limits  of  the 
prison  was  built  of  pine  logs,  scored  on  the  sides, 
and  set  upright  in  a  trench.  The  area  enclosed 
consisted  of  two  opposite  hillsides  and  the  level 
plateau  back  of  them.  Through  the  centre  ran  a 
narrow  and  swampy  brook,  on  each  side  of  which 
was  low  land,  covered  in  part  by  the  stumps  of 
trees  which  had  been  cut  down  for  the  purpose  of 
building  the  stockade.  The  ground  was  black  and 
without  vegetation. 

The  prison  area  was  in  the  form  of  a  parallelo- 
gram, about  seven  hundred  feet  wide,  and  eleven 


408  TOM  CLIFTON. 

hundred  feet  long.  There  were  two  gates  at  the 
west  end  of  the  prison.  At  the  north-east  corner 
of  the  stockade  there  was  a  railing,  enclosing  an 
area  allotted  to  the  hospital.  All  around  the  in- 
terior of  the  stockade,  eighteen  feet  from  it,  was 
a  wide  ditch,  for  a  dead  line,  and  to  prevent  the 
prisoners  from  tunnelling  or  digging  out. 

Outside  the  stockade  was  another  broad  ditch, 
the  earth  of  which  had  been  thrown  ag-ainst  the 
palisade,  making  a  walk,  which  brought  the  sen- 
tinel breast-high  above  the  walls. 

We  employed  the  first  hours  of  the  morning  in 
looking  for  a  place  to  build  a  hut.  We  finall}^ 
selected  as  suitable  for  our  use  a  vacant  spot  on 
the  west  hillside,  and  at  once  began  the  attempt 
of  making  ourselves  comfortable. 

We  first  levelled  off  a  spot,  which  we  partly  dug 
into  the  side  hill,  and  over  this  pitched  two  blan- 
kets, resembling  in  form  an  A  tent. 

In  the  afternoon  Matt  and  I  obtained  permis- 
sion to  go  outside,  under  guard,  for  wood.  We 
brought  as  many  pine  boughs  as  we  could  drag, 
stripped  off  the  pine  needles,  and  covered  the  bot- 
tom of  our  hut  therewith.  This  made  a  more  com- 
fortable bed  than  we  had  enjoyed  in  prison  up  to 
this  time,  and  the  boughs,  when  cut  up  with  my 
large  knife,  gave  us  a  good  supply  of  wood  for 
cooking. 

During  our  absence  Peter  had  been  in  the  low- 
lands stripping  tlie  stumps  for  bark.      We  used 


FLORENCE  PRISON.  409 

part  of  this  to  patch  the  rear  of  our  hut,  and  felt, 
when  we  had  completed  it,  that  we  had  done  a 
good  day's  work.  Such  was  the  beginning  of  our 
life  at  Florence.    It  daily  became  worse  and  worse. 

In  November  the  nights  were  intensely  cold,  and 
every  morning  the  bristling  frost  was  white  like 
snow  on  the  ground. 

As  the  Confederate  sergeant  counted  the  differ- 
ent squads  at  an  early  hour,  my  comrades,  who  had 
no  shoes,  suffered  intensely  from  cold. 

The  prisoners  were  starved,  poorly  clad,  and 
could  not  resist  cold  like  those  in  ordinary  condi- 
tions of  life. 

During  the  winter  it  seemed  impossible  to  keep 
warm,  and  all  night  men  were  to  be  heard  walking 
the  narrow  streets,  with  plaintive  wails  and  chat- 
tering teeth,  in  the  endeavor  to  keep  warmth  in 
their  poor  starved  bodies. 

Often,  when  we  found  it  too  cold  to  sleep  nights 
by  "  spooning  "  close  to  each  other  in  our  hut,  we 
adopted  the  same  expedient,  and  then  slept  in  the 
warm  sun  during  the  day. 

Our  rations  were  even  less  in  quantity  here  than 
they  had  been  at  Charleston.  This  may  have  been 
caused  in  part  by  the  fact  tliat  Sherman  had  begun 
his  march  from  Atlanta  to  the  Sea,  gathering  the 
sustenance  of  the  country  for  his  army  ;  and  in 
part  by  sheer  indifference  or  negligence. 

The  Confederates  opened  a  recruiting-office  out- 
side, and  offered  bounty  of  food  and  clothing  to 


410  -     TOM  CLIFTON. 

our  men  who  would  join  their  ranks.  Very  few 
joined  them  who  would  have  been  good  for  any- 
thing in  our  ranks,  or  who  would  prove  of  much 
use  to  the  Confederates. 

The  rebels  themselves  showed  their  estimate  of 
the  men  by  calling  them  "galvanized  Yanks." 

When  they  came  to  Shaw  —  the  big  Massachu- 
setts man,  whom  we  found  here  on  our  arrival  — 
with  an  offer  to  go  out  and  work  at  his  trade  as 
shoemaker,  Shaw  said  simply,  "No,  sir;  I  know 
how  to  starve ;  you've  taught  me  that;  but  no  one 
has  taught  me  to  be  a  traitor."  Such  were  the 
men  who  died  by  thousands,  —  men  who  could  die, 
but  would  not  prove  false  to  their  country,  — 
worthy  descendants  of  those  who  fought  at  Lex- 
ington and  Bunker  Hill  that  civil  liberty  might 
bless  the  land. 

Matt  and  Peter  had  gone  out  to  draw  the 
rations,  which  were  usually  issued  late  in  the 
afternoon.  They  both  came  back  later,  saying, 
"  No  rations  ;  the  Confeds  say  we  have  got  a  tun- 
nel somewhere  and  that  men  are  escaping." 

"What  has  that,"  I  said,  "to  do  about  issuing 
rations  ?  " 

"  They  say  none  are  to  be  issued  to  the  pris- 
oners until  the  tunnel  is  discovered.  Got  any 
money  left,  Tom  ?  "  asked  Matt. 

"  All  gone  but  five  dollars  Confederate  money," 
I  replied.  "  I  was  holding  on  to  that  for  an 
emergency." 


a 

i 

.a 

s 

o 


04 


FLORENCE  PRISON.  411 

"I  guess  this  is  the  emergency  fur  yer,"  said 
Sam. 

The  result  was  we  bought  two  cakes  of  Indian- 
meal. 

There  were  no  rations  issued  the  next  day,  for 
the  reason  given  the  day  before,  and  from  morning 
till  night  we  tasted  no  food. 

I  determined  to  sell  my  shoes,  if  possible,  to  one 
of  the  rebel  sentinels,  and  with  this  purpose  went 
around  the  enclosure,  looking  up  at  the  different 
men  on  post  in  hopes  to  sell  them. 

While  so  engaged  I  smelled  a  most  inviting  odor 
of  fried  bacon.  No  one  but  a  man  who  has  suffered 
the  keenest  pangs  of  hunger  can  understand  me 
when  I  say  I  was  drawn  irresistibly  to  the  spot 
where  that  bacon  was  being  cooked. 

The  man  who  was  cooking  the  bacon  proved  to 
be  a  sailor,  or  was  di-essed  in  sailor  clothing.  He 
had  quite  a  pile  of  sweet  potatoes  by  his  side,  and 
some  others  cooking  in  a  tin  pot  on  the  fire  where 
he  was  frying  the  bacon. 

As  I  stood  sniffing  the  fragrant  smell,  the  man 
looked  up  and  said,  "  What  are  you  standing  there 
for?"  Then,  as  I  did  not  answer,  he  continued, 
"  You're  a  thin  specimen  ;  how  long  have  you  been 
a  prisoner  ?  " 

I  replied  I  had  only  been  a  prisoner  since  Septem- 
ber, but  hadn't  been  very  well,  and  wanted  to  sell 
my  shoes. 

"  I  can't  trade;  these  potatoes  belong  to  a  reb  out- 


412  TOM  CLIFTON. 

side,  and  my  partner  is  acting  as  a  trader  for  him. 
You  know  the  rebels  have  a  law  against  taking 
United  States  greent)acks,  but  the  rebs  outside  had 
rather  have  a  dollar  of  it  than  a  hundred  of  Confed- 
erate money ;  so  they  get  around  it  in  this  way. 
'  T  is  time  my  partner  was  round  here.  Hold  on 
a  minute,  he'll  trade  with  you.  Why,  here  he  is 
now." 

Standing  by  my  side,  with  his  black  eyes  gleam- 
ing from  under  his  straight,  shaggy  brows,  was 
Pat  Pike. 

A  rebel  prison  was  like  a  large  city,  where  one 
was  likely  to  meet  any  one  ;  but,  though  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  unexpected  meetings  in  this  jumble 
of  men  thrown  together  by  the  strange  happenings 
of  war,  in  this  instance  I  confess  I  was  too  sur- 
prised to  utter  a  word. 

Not  so  with  Pike.  "  Ah,  me  boy !  Shure  the 
rebs  have  got  you,  have  they  ?     Where's  Matt?" 

"  He's  here  ;  so's  Peter  and  a  lot  of  our  boys." 

"  And  the  lot  of  them  starving,  are  yees  ?  Ah, 
thin,  it's  yer  shoes  ye  want  to  sell?  Put  um  on,  it's 
cowld.  Here,  I'll  give  yees  more  spuds  than  yees 
can  buy  wid  um.  Here,  take  these  potatoes  to 
Matt.  Till  him  I  have  jist  something  important 
to  till  him." 

I  went  to  our  hut,  told  Matt,  and  while  the  pota- 
toes were  being  boiled  and  the  bacon  fried,  we  dis- 
cussed the  occurrence  of  the  morning. 

Matt  simply  replied,  "  This  grub  is  good,  what- 


FLORENCE  PRISON.  413 

ever  Pike  may  be."  We  ate  thankfully,  and  were 
indeed  in  luck,  for,  during  three  days,  no  rations 
had  been  given  out  to  the  piisoners,  and  men  died 
like  sheep.  Then  some  of  the  prisoners,  it  was 
said,  who  had  dug  a  tunnel  for  that  purpose,  dis- 
covered it  to  brute  Barrett,  who  had  caused  the 
rations  to  be  stopped,  and  food  was  once  more  doled 
out  in  scanty  rations  to  the  unfortunates. 

When  I  told  Matt  that  Pike  had  something  to 
say  to  him,  and  had  requested  me  to  bring  him  up 
that  afternoon,  he  at  first  refused  to  go ;  but  Peter 
said,  "  Go,"  and  Sam  Ryder  said,  "  'T  is  no  place  to 
stand  on  bygones  with  a  man  who's  got  sweet  pota- 
toes and  bacon  to  give  yer,  when  yer  grub-struck 
as  we  be." 

So  Matt  went  with  me.  When  Pike  saw  Matt 
in  his  ragged  Confederate  suit,  he  said  reproach- 
fully, "  Shure,  they  haven't  made  a  galvanized  Yank 
of  yees,  have  they  ?  " 

As  Matt  was  not  inclined  to  explain,'  I  told  the 
story  of  our  attempt  to  escape.  "  A  bowld  thing, 
an  jist  like  your  father's  son,"  said  Pike,  his  face 
lighting  up  with  an  expression  of  pleasure. 

"  Did  you  know  my  father?"  said  Matt. 

"  Shure,  Matt,  he  was  me  own  cousin." 

"  Why  did  you  join  our  company,"  said  Matt, 
"  with  a  lie  on  your  lips,  and  take  my  father's  name 
and  letter?" 

"  An'  it  was  a  cheap  way  to  conceal  me  identity, 
and  I  had  at  first  no  idea  tha,t  I  should  find  Michael 


414  TOM  CLIFTON. 

Ryan's  son  in  that  company,  or  any  one  who  knew 
him.  A  man,  while  in  my  hazardous  emplymint 
niver  knows  what  good  may  come  of  such  a  concale- 
mint.  It  happened  your  distlirust  an^  me  change 
of  names  so  re-established  me  in  the  confidence  of 
the  rebels  at  Vicksburg,  that  I  have  been  able  to  do 
good  work  for  the  country  since." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Matt,  "  that  spying  is  a 
pretty  mean  business." 

"Yes,"  said  Pike;  "and  more  dangerous  than 
fighting.  This  very  minute  there's  a  halter  round 
me  neck:  no  knowing  when  I'll  swing  by  it." 

"  You  take  it  pretty  easy,"  I  said,  admiring  his 
coolness. 

"  An'  it's  me  way.  Shure  if  I  lost  me  nerve,  I 
should  be  worse  than  nothing,  in  playing  a  game 
like  this.  I  came  near  losing  it  at  Vicksburg  — 
I  was  vexed  jist  a  moment.  '  How  did  I  come 
here  ?  '  I'll  till  yees  a  bit  about  it.  Before  I  lift 
Gineral  Sharman,  —  after  the  time  I  came  down 
over  Muscle  Shoals,  bringing  the  letther  from  Gin- 
eral Grant, —  I  agreed  to  go  into  the  inemies'  coun- 
thry  and  burn  some  bridges  to  prevint  the  rebs 
concentrating  aginst  him.  Then  I  thried  it  ag'in 
on  the  Atlanta  campaign ;  got  caught ;  then,  — 
no  matther,  I  satisfied  the  rebs."  Then,  in  lower 
tones,  he  said,  "  I've  been  sent  here  by  the  rebs  to 
spy  on  the  prisoners,  for  they  think  there's  a  plot 
for  an  outbreak.  It's  not  long  that  I  will  stay 
here.     Ould  Sharman  has  started  out  from  Atlanta, 


FLORENCE  PRISON.  415 

and  will  rache  the  saycoast  before  New  Year's. 
Shure,  I  must  git  to  him  before  thin."  Then, 
with  an  expressive  gesture,  he  said,  "Kape  still  av 
this,"  then  began  to  talk  about  selling  us  some 
sweet  potatoes. 

"  Give  me  yer  note  for  what  potatoes  yer  want, 
Clifton." 

I  gave  him  my  note  for  four  bushels  of  potatoes 
at  twenty-five  dollars  per  bushel. 

This  note  was  never  presented  for  collection, 
and  I  don't  think  he  intended  to  collect  it  when 
he  took  it  in  payment. 

In  a  few  days  this  mysterious  man  disappeared 
from  camp,  and  I  never  saw  him  again. 

Before  he  went  he  gave  Matt  a  detailed  account 
of  the  reasons  of  his  father's  non-return  to  his 
home,  and  of  his  death,  all  of  wliich  is  immaterial 
to  this  story. 

The  only  thing  learned  of  Pike  after  that  time 
was  recently,  while  reading  the  memoirs  of  a 
prominent  Union  general,  I  saw  the  statement 
that  during  the  March  to  the  Sea  a  certain  spy 
named  Pike  came  into  our  lines  at  Columbia,  S.C. ; 
that  after  the  war  he  received  a  commission  in  the 
regular  service,  and  accidentally  shot  himself  while 
on  the  frontier,  some  years  later.  I  believe  he 
was  the  same  man  I  have  written  of  here. 


416  TOM  CLIFTON. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

FROM   DARKNESS   TO   LIGHT. 

I  WAS  cooking  potatoes  one  morning,  when  I 
heard  a  Confederate  guard  in  camp  making  in- 
quiries for  me. 

I  looked  up  from  my  smoky  fire,  saying,  "  I  am 
the  man.     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  ye'l  hef  ter  cum  with  me,"  said  the 
Confederate.    "  Cheatam,  our  adjutant,  wants  yer." 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  "  I  inquired,  for  I  ima- 
gined that  this  might  mean  my  arrest. 

"  Reckon  ye'd  better  leave  yer  fixin's  and  tote 
yourself  along  wi'  me,"  was  the  only  answer  the 
guard  gave  me. 

I  was  not  very  presentable,  even  for  a  prisoner. 
My  face  was  black  with  the  smoke  of  numerous 
fires  of  pitch-pine  limbs  and  roots  I  had  wrestled 
with ;  my  feet  black  with  the  dark  soil  of  the  camp, 
where  I  had  waded  in  the'  stream  for  cooking 
water ;  my  clothes  were  ragged,  and  scarcely  broke 
joints  over  my  nakedness.  Besides  this,  I  was 
not,  as  a  whole,  in  a  frame  of  mind  conducive  to 
confidence  in  myself.  It  always  took  a  certain 
amount  of  soap  and  water,  as  well  as  clean,  whole 


FROM  DARKNESS   TO  LIGHT.  417 

clothes,  to  thoroughly  establish  my  moral  courage 
in  trying  situations.  I  think  if  I  were  required  to 
face  a  lion  in  his  den,  I  could  conduct  the  cam- 
paign against  him  on  more  equal  grounds  with  a 
clean  face  and  in  a  good  suit  of  clothes. 

But  no  matter  what  my  misgivings  were,  I  had 
no  choice  but  obedience,  and  so  accompanied  the 
rebel  guard  to  the  headquarters  of  the  command- 
ing officer,  a  comfortable-looking  log  house  outside 
the  prison  limits. 

As  I  entered  the  door,  a  pleasant-faced  Confeder- 
ate officer  looked  up  from  the  pine  table  whereon 
he  was  writing,  and  said  sharply  to  the  guard, 
"  What  do  you  bring  this  Yank  here  for?  " 

"  I  reckon,"  replied  the  guard,  "  yer'l  hev  to  ask 
our  adjutant,  for  dogoned  if  I  know." 

"  What  regiment  ?     Who's  your  adjutant  ? '' 

"  The  five  Georgia  —  Cheatham,  he's  our  ad- 
jutant." 

The  officer  smiled  as  if  he  understood,  and  just 
then  a  tall,  lean  man,  with  humorous  wrinkles 
around  his  eyes,  said  as  he  came  in,  "  It's  all  riglit, 
Colonel ;  this  is  the  lieutenant  we  heard  about." 

Colonel  Iverson  (for  this  was  the  commanding 
officer's  name)  looked  me  over  with  an  amused 
smile  for  an  instant,  and  then  a  pitying  or  compas- 
sionate look  came  into  his  face  as  he  said,  "  My 
poor  fellow,  can  you  write  ?  " 

For  answer  I  drew  a  piece  of  paper  to  me,  seated 
myself  at  the  table,  and  wrote  rapidly. 


418  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Can  any  good  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?  Come 
and  see  !  "  then  added  my  name,  rank,  and  regi- 
ment; and  handed  it  to  him.  He  read  it,  passed 
it  to  the  adjutant,  and  said,  "Very  good;  we'll 
use  you  well  out  here." 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  "  I  inquired,  for 
I  did  not  intend  to  do  anything  inconsistent  with 
my  allegiance  to  the  old  flag. 

"  There  is  some  clothing  which  has  just  come 
through  our  lines  to  be  distributed  to  the  prison- 
ers ;  and  we  wish  you  to  take  charge  of  it.  You 
must  issue  a  receii^t  for  it." 

I  was  only  too  willing,  as  the  reader  may  imagine, 
to  do  this. 

"The  adjutant  will  show  you  where  the  goods 
are  stored,"  continued  Iverson  ;  then  with  a  grin, 
"  You'd  better  issue  some  to  yourself  at  once." 

I  found  stoied  in  a  log  building  near  by,  a  large 
quantity  of  clothing  which  had  been  sent  from 
Charleston  by  the  U.  S.  Sanitary  Commission,  from 
which  I  selected  a  suit,  including  underclothing, 
hat,  and  shoes. 

After  a  bath  in  a  brook,  where  with  soap  I  washed 
away  the  prison  filth,  and  with  my  courage  and 
confidence  increasing  with  every  article  I  put  on, 
I  got  into  that  suit.  When  I  again  entered  Colonel 
Iverson's  quarters  I  felt  that  I  was  on  equal  terms 
with  him  or  any  one  else  in  the  Confederacy. 

He  invited  me  to  seat  myself,  and  soon  became 
very  social ;  told  me  that  I  might  use  the  office  for 


FROM  DARKNESS   TO  LIGHT.  419 

my  quarters,  and  send  for  such  prisoners  to  assist 
me  as  I  thought  best,  to  the  number  of  four  or 
five. 

After  a  good  supper  of  fresh  meat,  bread,  and 
sweet  potatoes,  scarcely  believing  in  my  great  good- 
fortune,  I  rolled  myself  in  my  blanket  and  slept 
before  the  office  fire,  which  was  built  in  a  fireplace 
made  of  sticks  and  mud. 

The  next  morning  I  signed  a  parole,  in  which  I 
agreed  not  to  go  beyond  certain  limits,  or  com- 
municate with  the  prisoners  within  the  stockade 
except  by  permission  of  the  prison  authorities. 

I  sent  for  Matt,  Peter,  Sam,  and  two  others,  who 
were  to  assist  me. 

Sam  Ryder  was  sick,  but  he  could  help  write, 
and  his  chances  were  better  outside  the  stockade 
than  inside,  especially  if  there  without  our  assist- 
ance and  help.  We  formed  a  mess,  installed  Peter 
as  cook,  and  knew  hunger  no  more  during  our  stay 
at  Florence. 

While  issuing  clothing,  I  came  upon  men  who 
had  barely  a  stitch  of  clothing  to  their  backs  — 
one  had  only  a  pair  of  drawers,  another  had  a 
ragged  overcoat,  but  had  no  shirt,  drawers,  shoes, 
or  stockings. 

Among  the  destitute  ones  was  a  mulatto  ser- 
geant of  the  54th  Mass.  (colored  troops),  captured 
at  Fort  Wagner,  of  whom  I  shall  have  more  to  say. 

After  a  little  over  a  week  I  finished  my  task  and 
had  given  out  all  the   clothing,   but  had  by  no 


420  rOM  CLIFTON. 

means  supplied  the  prisoners  with  what  they 
needed. 

I  reported  to  Colonel  Iverson  that  my  duty  was 
performed.  I  expected  to  be  returned  to  the  stock- 
ade, but  Adjutant  Cheatham  informed  me  that  a 
Confederate  mail-agent  had  come  to  the  post  with  a 
large  number  of  letters  for  distribution  among  the 
prisoners,  and  that  I  might  assist  in  distributing 
them. 

"  My  men,"  said  Adjutant  Cheatham,  "  can  fight 
like  devils,  but  don't  take  much  to  fancy  tricks, 
like  reading  and  writing." 

I  began  at  once  to  assist  Mr.  Christian,  the 
mail-agent,  and  while  at  work  at  this  duty  found 
two  letters  for  myself,  one  from  my  father,  written 
on  a  single  letter  page  and  giving  only  meagre 
home  news,  according  to  conditions  under  which 
such  correspondence  was  allowed. 

Good-fortune,  like  misfortune,  seldom  comes 
singly.  Of  this  I  have  had  abundant  evidence  in 
my  life,  as  the  events  which  followed  proved. 

Sam  was  so  sick  that,  as  he  was  promised  good 
attention,  I  consented  to  his  going  to  the  hospital 
near  us. 

I  soon  finished  distributing  the  mail,  and  was 
lying  on  my  bed  in  the  corner  of  the  office,  when 
Colonel  Iverson  came  in  and  said,  "  Lieutenant, 
there's  groins  to  be  an  exchange  of  the  sick  in  this 
prison.  Will  you  remain  and  put  yowi  clerks  at 
work  to  assist  the  paroling  officer  ?  " 


FROM  DARKNESS   TO  LIGHT.  421 

I  signified  my  willingness,  and  in  the  course  of 
two  or  three  days  we  received  the  printed  rolls 
provided  for  this  purpose,  and  began  work. 

The  famished  prisoners,  rallying  strength  at  the 
thought  of  home  and  friends  and  food,  came  out 
in  squads,  feebly  cheering.  They  were  cheers  that 
brought  tears  to  the  eyes,  and  I  cannot  recall  the 
scene,  even  now,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  without  bringing  a  throng  of 
sad  remembrances. 

Among  those  who  came  out  to  sign  the  rolls 
was  my  poor  cousin  Sam  Ryder. 

I  heard  behind  me  some  one  saying  in  a  tremu- 
lous, high-pitched  whine,  peculiar  to  these  men, 
"  You'll  have  to  sign  my  name,  Tom.  I  used  to 
write,  but  I  can't  see,  and  my  hand  trembles  so," 
and  found  it  was  Sam. 

"  I  guess  we  shall  see  the  color  of  the  old  flag," 
he  said,  trying  to  smile,  "  neow  share  'nuff,  Tom  !  " 

Among  others  who  pressed  forward  was  the 
colored  sergeant  of  the  54th  Massachusetts,  before 
mentioned  —  Jeffers,  I  think,  was  his  name. 

He  had  signed  his  name  to  the  rolls  without 
comment  of  the  paroling  officer,  when  a  man  with 
thick  lips  and  as  black  as  the  ace  of  spades 
pressed  forward  to  put  his  name  with  the  others. 
The  paroling  officer,  with  an  oath  and  lifting  his 
foot  at  the  same  time  to  emphasize  it,  exclaimed 
angrily,  "  Get  back,  you  nigger  you." 

I  saw  the  sergeant  of  the  54th  Massachusetts, 


422  TOM  CLIFTON. 

who  had  set  his  face  toward  home  and  friends  and 
freedom,  hesitate  for  a  moment,  then  he  turned  to 
the  paroling  officer  and  said  in  those  deep,  husky 
tones  men  use  when  terribly  in  earnest,  "  Take 
my  name  from  your  list,  sir !  1,  too,  am  a  colored 
man ;  these  are  my  people,  and  I  will  live  and  die 
with  them." 

And  then  for  a  sentiment  dearer  than  freedom 
and  life,  he  turned  his  back  upon  home  antl  friends, 
and  entered  again  the  gloomy  prison  gates  to  die 
amid  its  terrible  scenes. 

I  thought  then,  and  I  have  often  said  since,  it 
was  one  of  the  grandest  things  I  ever  saw. 

"  We  have  no  need  to  despair  for  the  black  race," 
said  my  father,  to  whom  I  afterwards  told  the 
incident,  "  when  humble  men  can  die  like  that." 

I  was  included  in  this  parole  of  the  sick,  as  were 
also  Peter  and  Matt,  and  it  was  a  happy  day  when 
we  turned  our  faces  toward  home  and  the  old  flag 
once  more. 

We  embarked  on  the  top  of  freight  cars,  and  rode 
all  night.  Thcnigh  it  was  very  cold  and  windy,  we 
were  content,  for  were  we  not  going  home  ? 

We  arrived  at  Charleston,  were  marched  through 
its  streets  once  more,  and  put  in  the  jail-yard. 

Here  we  waited  all  the  next  day  for  a  heavy  fog 
to  clear  away,  so  that  the  flag  of  truce  boat,  con- 
taining the  prisoners,  would  not  be  fired  upon 
while  crossing  into  our  lines. 

We  were  not  in  very  comfortable  quarters,  and, 


FROM  DARKNESS   TO  LIGHT.  423 

as  Sam  was  sick  and  feeble,  we  gladly  availed  our- 
selves of  the  offer  of  a  Northern  man  attached  to 
the  rebel  ambulance  corps  to  take  us  to  better 
quarters,  at  the  Roper  Hospital,  where  we  had  a 
fire  and  plenty  of  room. 

The  last  and  saddest  sight  I  saw  in  Charleston 
was  when  (the  third  day  after  our  arrival)  we  took 
poor  Sam  out  to  the  sidewalk  to  be  carried  to  our 
flag  of  truce  boat. 

"  This  man  won't  live  to  get  there !  "  roughly 
exclaimed  the  brutal,  red-headed  surgeon  in  charge. 
"Take  him  out  of  the  ambulance." 

He  was  removed  and  laid  on  the  sidewalk, 
gasping. 

Peter  clutched  his  fist  angrily  and  went  toward 
the  rebel  surgeon,  when  Matt  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"  It's  no  use,  Peter  !  God  rest  his  soul !  Sam  is 
dead."  It  was  too  true,  and  his  last  articulate 
words  were,  "  It's  hard."  Yes,  it  was  hard  to  be 
so  near  and  yet  so  far  from  home. 

That  afternoon  we  sailed  down  the  harbor,  were 
out  in  the  broad  blue  sea,  were  la*shed  to  our 
receiving-ship,  and  silently  —  but  I  trust  rever- 
ently —  thanking  God  for  his  great  mercy  in  once 
more  bringing  us  under  the  protection  of  the  flag 
of  our  country. 

It  is  a  singular  study  in  human  nature  that 
these  starved  and  long-suffering  men  were  very 
quiet  and  undemonstrative  in  their  joy. 

There  were  no  cheers,  but  many  half-plaintive, 
joyful  faces. 


424  TOM  CLIFTON. 

We  arrived  at  the  parole  camp  at  Annapolis, 
Md.,  on  December  25,  1864,  and  I  at  once  tele- 
graphed to  my  father  of  our  arrival. 

Shortly  after  we  received  the  tidings  of  Sher- 
man's successful  march  from  Atlanta  to  the  Sea. 

My  commission  as  first  lieutenant  was  for- 
warded to  me  here. 

The  last  of  January  I  was  furloughed  and  given 
the  money  for  commutation  of  rations  and  three 
months'  extra  pay  (as  were  other  prisoners),  by 
order  of  the  War  Department. 

I  arrived  at  Lakeview  on  the  18th  of  February, 
1865,  accompanied  by  Matt  and  Peter. 

On  account  of  our  hardships  in  prison,  none  of 
us  were  again  able  to  report  for  duty,  and,  after  an 
extension  of  our  furloughs,  were  at  last  mustered 
out  of  the  service  on  account  of  the  close  of  the  war. 

One  of  the  first  persons  whom  we  met  on  our 
return  to  Lakeview  was  Mrs.  Perkles.  She  had 
taken  possession  of  Peter's  sod  house,  and  as  Peter 
hated  to  turn  her  out  into  the  cold,  of  which  she 
complained  grievously,  and  as  he  wished  to  occupy 
his  own  house  which  had  Mrs.  Perkles  as  a  fix- 
ture, he  proposed  a  partnership,  which  was  ac- 
cepted and  exists  to  this  day.  He  has  a  good 
farm  and  a  large  family,  and  owes  not  a  little  of 
his  prosperity  to  his  Tennessee  partner. 

It  was  about  two  years  after  the  surrender  of 
Johnston's  army  that  ex-Confederate  General  Pres- 


FROM  DARKNESS   TO  LIGHT.  425 

ton  visited  us  at  Lakeview.  He  had  but  little  to 
say  about  the  war,  but  so  much  for  himself  that 
my  sister  Bess  married  this  one-armed  Southern 
soldier,  and  returned  with  him  to  the  South  to 
build  up  his  fortunes.  His  Northern  wife  has  at 
last  so  thoroughly  reconstructed  him,  that  he  says 
he  is  glad  that  the  war  ended  with  the  abolition  of 
slavery,  and  that  he  would  now  be  as  willing  to 
fight  for  "  one  country  and  one  flag"  as  he  was  to 
fight  for  a  contrary  jDrinciple  when  the  war  began. 

Soon  after  my  return  home  I  wrote  a  letter  to 
the  Sibleys  to  thank  them  for  their  kindness  to 
me  at  their  home.  I  did  not  receive  a  reply  for 
months,  and  then  one  came  from  Miss  Marion. 
She  informed  me  that  her  father  was  dead  —  died, 
she  said,  of  a  broken  heart  because  Sherman's 
thieves  stole  all  their  property  and  ran  off  all 
their  servants  except  old  Si  (and  he  was  too  old 
and  dependent  to  leave);  that  she  was  still  loyal  to 
the  cause  of  secession ;  and  much  more  in  the 
same  style. 

The  expressions  of  her  letter  were  so  unrepent- 
antly  rebellious  that  I  put  aside  all  thoughts  I 
may  have  had  of  reconstructing  her  non-union 
sentiments. 

Aleck  came  to  us  a  few  years  after  with  a  wife 
and  four  children.  He  is  never  tired  of  telling  of 
his  war  experience,  and  especially  proud  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  an  "  ossifer  in  the  army  —  a  cor- 
peral !  " 


426  TOM  CLIFTON. 

"  Clar  ter  gracious  'f  yer  had  seed  me  make  dem 
men  git  'round  by  the  right  wheel  and  de  lef 
flank,  ye'rd  know'd   I  war  a  right  smart  ossifer ! " 

He  has  built  for  himself  a  sod  house  on  my 
father's  farm,  and  is  now  its  faithful  superintend- 
ent. 

In  1866  Matt  and  I  formed  a  co-partnership  and 
began  a  lumber  business,  at  first  in  a  small  way, 
by  bujdng  and  cutting  the  timber  that  remained 
on  the  island  in  the  lake. 

Our  business  has  gradually  extended  until  it, 
together  with  our  growing  land  interest  in  Min- 
neapolis, has  led  to  our  removal  to  that  city. 

My  aunt  comes  down  from  Lakeview  occasion- 
ally, and  at  unexpected  moments  calls  at  our  office. 
She  never  comes  up  by  the  elevator,  but  prefers 
the  stairway,  because  she  declares,  "  There's  no 
knowin'  where  that  freak  o'  natur'  (the  elevator) 
will  light." 

Yesterday  afternoon,  M'hile  returning  home, 
Colonel  Ryan  called  my  attention  to  a  flaming 
handbill  which  announced  that  the  Reverand  Uriah 
Johnson,  of  Lakeview,  would  lecture  on  "  Battles 
and  Scenes  in  the  Civil  War,  in  which  he  bore  a 
conspicuous  and  distinguished  part." 

If  my  readers  come  to  the  city  of  Minneapolis 
they  will  find  our  latch-string  out  at  the  Lumber 
Exchange,  and  will  be  welcomed,  especially  if  Col- 
onel Ryan  can  persuade  them  to  buy  a  corner  lot 
in  the  "Clifton   Addition,"  or   the    material   for 

building  a  house, 
o 


FROM  DARKNESS   TO  LIGHT.  427 

While  "  Clifton  &  Ryan  "  are  reputed  "  to  be 
hustlers,"  I  trust  that  neither  of  us  has  forgotten 
the  lessons  impressed  upon  him  early  in  life  :  that 
wealth  and  success  of  every  kind  are  secondary  to 
righteousness  —  right  doing  and  right  thinking. 

My  father,  hale  and  vigorous  in  his  eighty- 
third  year,  still  lives  at  Lake  view,  and  has  never 
regretted  that  he  came  to  the  "  Great  North-west," 
where  he  retrieved  fortune  and  health. 


WAR  STORIES  BY  WARREN  LEE  GOSS. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  PRIVATE.  A  Story  of  the 
Array  of  the  Potomac.  By  Warren  Lee  Goss,  author  of  "  Jed." 
With  over  80  ilkistrations  by  Chapiii  and  Shelton.  Royal  8vo. 
Cloth,  $3.25  ;  seal  russia,  $4.25  ;   half  morocco,  $5.00. 

Among  the  many  books  about  the  Civil  War  there  is  none  which 
more  clearly  describes  what  took  place  among  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
Union  Army,  while  on  the  march  or  on  the  battle-field,  than  the  story 
given  by  Mr.  Goss  in  this  volume. 

It  is  one  of  the  handsomest,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  works  ia 
American  war  literature.  —  Boston  Globe. 

No  volume  of  war  history  has  given  the  reader  more  graphic  descriptions  of 
army  life.  .  .  .  The  writer  speaks  from  knowledge  and  not  from  theory.  — 
Chicago  Inter  Ocean. 

From  General  Rosecrans,  Register  of  Treasury 

Treasury  Dep.vrtment,  Rkgisteh's  Office. 

Washington,  D.C,  Sept.  24,  1800. 
...  It  may  seem  strange,  but  it  is  true,  tliat  I  have  had  comparatively  little 
time  to  devote  to  war  literature,  but  I  derived  much  pleasure  from  the  perusal 
of  this  book.  Its  raciness  of  style,  accuracy  of  statement,  and  often  pathos  of 
the  story,  so  much  interested  me  that  I  devoted  a  whole  evening  to  it.  It  is  all 
the  more  pleasant  because  from  my  own  knowledge,  I  believe  it  to  be  a  fair  rep- 
resentation of  the  spirit  of  that  great  body  of  patriotic  men,  the  private  soldiers 
of  the  Union  Array;  and  I  hope  it  may  be  largely  read,  not  only  by  old  soldiers, 
but  also  by  other  citizens,  young  and  old. 

Yours  truly,  W.  S.  Rosecrans. 

,JED.    A  Boy's  Adventures  in  the  Army  of  1861-'65. 

A  Story  of  Battle  and  Prison,  of  Peril  and  Escape.  By  Warhen 
Lee  GosS;  author  of  "  The  Soldier's  Story  of  his  Captivity  at  An- 
dersonville  and  other  Prisons,"  "  The  Recollections  of  a  Private" 
(in  the  Century  War  Series).    Fully  illustrated.    12mo.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

In  this  story  the  author  has  aimed  to  furnish  true  pictures  of  scenes 
in  the  great  Civil  War,  and  not  to  produce  sensational  effects.  The 
incidents  of  the  book  are  real  ones,  drawn  largely  from  the  writer's 
personal  experiences  and  observations  as  a  soldier  of  the  Union  din-ing 
that  war.  The  descriptions  of  life  in  the  Southern  prisons  are 
especially  graphic.  It  is  one  of  the  best  war  stories  ever  written. 
Boys  will  read  it  with  avidity. 

Of  all  the  many  stories  of  the  Civil  War  that  have  been  published  it  is  not 
possible  to  mention  one  which  for  sturdy  realism,  intensity  of  interest,  and  range 
of  narrative  can  compare  with  Jed.  —  Boston  Beacon. 

A  book  that  every  boy  in  the  country  will  want  to  read  the  moment  he  sees 
it,  and  it  is  as  instructive  as  entertaining.  —  Brooklyn  Union. 

A  thrilling  story  of  bravery,  endurance,  and  final  success.  —  Boston  Home 
Jnnrnal. 

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(17) 


InpoRTANT    Historical    Works. 


THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  GERMAN  EMPIRE. 

Hased  chiefly  upon  Pi-ussi;in  State  Uocumeiits,  by  Heiniuch  VON  Sybel.  Trans- 
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"  A  triumph  of  historical  description." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

A  HISTORY  OF  FRANCE. 

By  Victor  Duruv,  member  of  the  French  Academy.  Abridged  and  translated 
from  the  seventeenth  French  edition,  by  Mrs.  M.  Carey,  with  an  introductoi-y  notice 
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MEMOIRS  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE. 

By  Louis  Antoine  Fauvelkt  de  Bourkienne,  his  Private  Secretary.  Edited 
by  Col.  R.  W.  Phipps.  New  and  revised  edition,  with  34  full-page  portraits  and 
other  illustrations.  4  vols.  i2mo.  Cloth,  plain,  $5.00.  Cloth,  gilt  top,  paper  label, 
$6.00.  Half  calf,  $12.00.  Limited  edition  with  over  100  illustrations,  gilt  top,  halt 
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A  Storv  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  By  Warren  Lee  Goss,  author  of  "Jed." 
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"  One  of  the  handsomest  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  works  in  American 
war  literature."  —  Boston  Globe. 

HER  MAJESTY'S  TOWER. 

By  W.  Hepwortu  Dixon.  New  edition,  complete  in  one  volume.  A  history  of 
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i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.00.     Half  calf,  $4.00.     'llie  result  of  twenty  years' research. 

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THE  NARRATIVE  OF  CAPTAIN  COIGNET, 

SOLDIER  OF  THE  EMPIRE,    1776-1850. 

An  autobiographical  account  of  one  of  Napoleon's  Body-Guard.  Fully  illustrated. 
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NEW  BOOKS  AND  NEW  EDITIONS. 

THE  EVERY  DAY  OF  LIFE.     By  the  Rev.  J.  R.  Miller, 

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EQUITABLE    TAXATION.       A     series     of     Prize    Essays     by 

Wai.teu  E.  W'eyl,  Robert  Luce,  Bolton  Hall,  and  others.     Introduction 

by  the  Hoh.  Jonathan  A.  Lane.     Biographical  sketches  and  portraits.    i2mo,  .75. 

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MONICA,  THE   MESA    MAIDEN.      By  Mrs.   Evelyn   H. 

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Monica  is  a  Spanish  girl  of  Southern  California,  who  lives  in  a  quaint  old   house 
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(24) 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
I^NIVERSITY  OF 
i^ORTH  CAROLINA 
AT 
CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
505 


4:< 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
505 


1 


